#could be persuaded to post the next chapter of Dreams perhaps

[the-lady-amphitrite]

should have been in bed an hour ago but ya girl managed to finally string together the whole of another scene for ofaoi while listening to the fic's playlist in the span of an hour!! we stay winning folks

[thedamselzelda]

Italian Dreams Ripped At The Seams

Author Chat: The first "chapter" of whatever I'm going to name this series. I'm not entirely sure yet, haven't settled on a name. BUT I have been DYING to post and get the ball rolling. I am in nursing school and I am writing almost everyday when I get home. the ideas are within my notes app, it's just the struggle of sitting down to do it.

Featuring: DarkEra! Dazai Osamu

Summary: Silence, it's something to fear in an already unstable world. In yours, it could mean anything. Your thoughts race as you think to yourself what the silence, the lack of communication, could actually mean, especially when that silence is caused by Dazai.

word count: 3k, fem!reader, pm!reader, sfw (light cursing), reader is occasionally called "Izanami" a nickname given to her bc of her ability (I'll let you try to figure that one out, until then stay tuned), reader is described as having violet eyes bc of her father (mentioned within this chapter) warnings: mentioned of self-harm, suicide attempt

~ next part | DBH masterlist | BSD Masterverse

The ceiling of the Italian Villa’s on-suite bathroom was one that could rival the Sistine Chapel ceiling, or at least, you think so. You’d never actually been or had even thought about it while living your life in Yokohama. Perhaps, now with your excruciatingly long stay in Italy, you would find yourself wandering into the building to admire another country’s history and artwork. 

But that is not why you were staring at the ceiling, instead you were mulling through your thoughts of the past week or so. The shortened phone calls, now completely devoid of them, between you and… well he wasn’t exactly your boyfriend. Or was he? You two had openly expressed your feelings, you two fucked around without a care, but was he even exclusively yours?

You scrunched your nose at the thought. That wasn’t exactly the part that irked you. What bothered you was that he had abruptly stopped calling and sending his sweet letters to you six months into your “study abroad” trip that Mori had all but shoved you out for. He was always honest with you, and you with him, so what would change his perception of you now? Was he tired of you? Was he simply that bothered by your leave that distance does not, in fact, make the heart grow fonder?

You splashed more water onto your chest, resting in the warm bath, hoping it would alleviate the migraine that had accumulated while working today. Your last phone call with him wasn’t long enough. It was so short you could remember every syllable that fell from his lips.

“Mori gave him the Silver Oracle, but of course I told him I’d help him even without it.”

“Well, you’re his friend. Did he not believe you?” You brushed your hair, hoping the smell of formaldehyde had been washed away with your evening shower.

“You know he did, but I could still hear some reservations when I spoke to him. Also, you really gotta talk to him about his ‘no killing’ policy.”

You breathe out a laugh, “Look, he’s been wanting me to read those books for the longest. His mantra is his. I’m just gonna let him do him.”

Dazai sighed, knowing far too well that even if your friendship with Oda rivaled that of his, not even you could persuade him. “Oh, I also had to work with your fath- I mean, Hirotsu. I tossed him my game and he totally fucked up my win streak.”

Your eyebrow twitched at hearing the intentional mess up. “Osamu, just commit to the bit next time. Also, why would you even toss your game to him.”

 Dazai chucked on the other side of the receiver, “I had work to do.”

“Oh yes, big mister executive had to go clean up my father’s mess. I see.”

You didn’t hear anything from him for a moment. You knew he was smiling, but it was a solemn one. He knew how much you wanted to be executive. You were born into the mafia, he wasn’t. While it wasn’t technically a birthright, the two of you felt like it was meant to be yours. Pushing back to the previous topic, you spoke again.

“Tell Oda that I’m looking forward to getting a letter from him. He didn’t pick up the phone the last time I called, but it sounds like he’s quite busy with whatever Mori has tasked him with.”

Dazai hummed to you in response, picking his next words carefully. Slipping into rough Italian, as if he couldn’t let anyone know, and spoke, “I’m worried about him.”

Your mouth curled into a frown, placing the brush down on the vanity. You picked your phone up, taking it off speaker, and placing it to your ear.

“How so?” you reply back, your Italian just as rough.

“He’s…” You could tell Dazai hadn’t had as much experience in the language, having only learned it to speak with you while you were in Italy. It was much more help than he could realize, as you were barely able to converse with your mentor, with your native tongue being Japanese and only knowing basic English. Dazai attempted to keep speaking, “He’s up against a skill rival to his. I just don’t foresee any outcome with this group going well.”

You hum back to him this time, unsure of what to say. You had heard through your contacts about this rival group, Mimic. Now, they had taken Ango, one of Dazai’s friends, your acquaintance. You knew dealing with any foreign group such as this always resulted in death, something you were intimately familiar with, so the thought didn’t plague you too much. Rather, the tone of Dazai’s voice and his words meant that it was Oda who could be the one at the center.

You cease speaking Italian, “I’m sure, whatever the outcome, the four of us will end up at Bar Lupin, clinking our drinks together and laughing about all of this in…” You think to yourself how much longer this sentence is, “three and a half years?”

Dazai puffs into the receiver, whining, “That’s too far from now. I’m gonna have to tell Mori I require a much-needed vacation to Italy real soon.”

You laugh, flopping down onto your down bed with satin sheets, “I would like that very much.”

The two of you fall silent, your eyes growing heavier and heavier. The silence was common toward the end of your phone calls. Sometimes, you could swear he would stay on just to hear the sound of your soft breathing. You would have, if that insomniac would ever fall asleep. 

“Bella, you can go to sleep. You’ll get my letter tomorrow. Just imagine I’m reading it to you.”

“It’s not the saammme.” You groan, throwing your arm over your eyes. “I get why Mori would send me here but fuck for four years?! I would serve the organization better if I was there!”

Dazai was silent, almost as if he didn’t want to agree or disagree with your statement.

“He said it was to hone your ability now that he couldn’t focus on you anymore, so I suppose it’s for the Mafia’s benefit more so than yours. You know where I stand regardless.”

“I know.” You voice was light, emphasizing your feelings.

“I’ll be the one that picks you up from the airport, though. I’ll even sweep you up and spin you around if it gives you something to look forward to.”

You roll over, smiling into your pillow.

“You’re definitely going to be dreaming about that now.” He laughs, possibly daydreaming about it already himself.

You chuckle, smothering your flushed face.

“Get some rest, cara mia. I’ll talk to you again in a few days.” His voice was soothing and low in tone, as if he knew his voice was lulling you to sleep.

“Talk to you soon, mon cher.” You sleepily say, waiting for him to end the call-but he doesn’t. You knew he was waiting for you to fall asleep, your eyes closing until you found yourself opening them again in the morning.

You open your eyes once more gazing upon the painted ceiling above you. It had been a week since then, placing you back into your thoughts on why he hadn’t called, written, or at least attempted to contact you in some other form. Even Oda and Mori hadn’t spoken to you. Which placed you in even more confusing thoughts. Surely, you thought to yourself, surely Mori wasn’t eliminating you from the Mafia. If that were the case, you would have already been killed and disposed of, and the mistress of the Villa, nor your mentor were acting anything out of the normal.

You gaze down, pinching the bridge of your nose. Any more thinking on this topic and surely your head would explode, which would be an invited reprieve at this particular moment. Your eyes dance down to the water, noticing your scar, which was deformed by the refracting water. One on your arm, you reached over to touch, remembering how you and Dazai had taken a knife across your arms hoping for it to be a beautiful double suicide, but alas, Mori found the two of you. He stitched up Dazai, forcing you to stitch up your own wound. You could feel a tear breech and slide down your cheek.

The great Izanami does not cry.

You grab onto the porcelain tub, pressing yourself deeper into the water, forcing your neck, then your face into the water. You open your eyes underneath the water, holding yourself there. Perhaps, if Dazai is done with you-if Oda is done with you-then maybe this is how you should go. You release some air from your lungs, allowing you to sink further under the water. You release your hands from the sides, submerging them, too.

Your lungs begin to burn, screaming for you to go up for air, but you refuse. You blink as you hear a garbled voice within the bathroom. If it is the mistress, there was nothing she could do to stop you. One touch and she would be gone. She knew the rule when it came to you. You blink again, seeing a dark outlined figure standing above the tub. You think to yourself, maybe it is him. However, if it is, he would have already pulled you up. So, it couldn’t be.

You find yourself gasping at fresh air as someone pulls you up from behind, their small hands snaking under your arms.

“Honestly, could you please not kill yourself? I’ve invested too much into you.”

You blink as your eyes burned slightly from the water falling from your lashes. A hand towel is handed to you, and you wipe your face roughly before looking behind you.

“Thank you, Elise.” Mori says sweetly to the girl. She rolls her eyes at you, annoyed that she had to soak her dress to retrieve you.

“What are you doing here?” You say in a harsh tone, irritated that he has interrupted yet another attempt.

“I can come and go as I please, since I am the one funding this education of yours.” His voice returns to the irritated, tired tone that he always uses with you. He’s taken a seat at the chair beside the tub, placing a medium navy-blue box tied in gold ribbon on the side table along with a tan file folder.

“I haven’t heard from you in a week. So, I ask again, what are you doing here?” You become irritated by his intrusion, and deviation from your original question.

You sit up within the tub, not caring for his gaze upon you. He was your technical guardian after all, and you knew his interest in young girls. However, you were unbothered by his now as you neared adulthood, his interest had wavered in you increasingly. The only thing that bound the two of you now was his ownership of you and your ability.

“I suppose you were going about your days here in the villa, wondering what the outcome was with Mimic, since I suppose he told you a bit about the issue.”

Mori was visibly irritated, testing to see how much Dazai told you via your late-night calls. The two of you knew it was very risky to converse about such delicate matters, regardless of what form they were put into. However, you longed to be home, so Dazai had frequently indulged you.

“I just know Oda was involved. That’s all.” You tone was steady, you had lied to Mori countless times before, this time was evidently no different.

He arched his eyebrow, studying your face. “It doesn’t matter now. It’s resolved anyway. We got the permit.”

He closed his eyes in thought. You in turn began to study him, curious as to why he would come to the villa just to inform you of the Port Mafia’s success.

“That can’t be the only reason you’re here.” You turn in the tub, your legs folding into your chest as you cock your head. “To what to I truly owe this intrusion, Mori?”

He slowly opened his eyes to look at you. His eyes darted between your violet ones, formulating his next words. “Sakunosuke Oda unfortunately passed during the fight against Mimic.”

Your eyes widen as you lean forward. You breathe out the only word that can formulate against your thoughts. A broken, “No,” escaping your lips.

Mori closes his eyes once more, leaning his head forward slightly, “And Dazai has disappeared. We do not know his whereabouts.”

“What?!” You spring up from the tub, water splashing about the floor and onto Elise and Mori. Elise groans, reaching for a bigger towel and tossing it to you. You wrap it around your body, attempting to create your next sentence against your pounding headache. “No, he… he would have said something. He would have contacted me. He wouldn’t…”

Your words trailed off as if they couldn’t follow your thoughts.

“Therefore, I came here because you needed to be informed of your new position. Or rather, the one you will take on once you finish here in Italy.”

You could barely hear him over your last conversation with Dazai playing out once more in your head.

"I’ll talk to you again in a few days… You’ll get my letter tomorrow.”

You hadn’t actually received the letter, which is what triggered your incessant thoughts. You had gone up to the mistress, day after day, asking if the letter had arrived, yet nothing came.

“While I am completely optimistic that Dazai will return.” Your eyes narrowed, anger seething from your gritted teeth. “I am leaving his executive position open for his return. In the meantime, you will assume a specially made executive position, and I have the documents to a club and a casino I would like for you to have control over to start with.”

He tapped to the file next to the navy-blue box.

“What’s the box for then?” Your eyes glance to the beautifully decorated box, curious to what could be contained within it.

“Dazai passed it to me a few days before he left, wanted me to send it to you. Instead, I thought it would soften the blow of the pervious news.” His hand fanned over the box in a presenting motion. “It’s been screened of course. Couldn’t have a defected member sending you something that would cause my newest executive to defect too.”

He gave a sly smile. He knew of your relationship with Dazai, but he also knew you feared a life without the Mafia more.

You sneered at him, “Why would I want that from a defected member?”

Your words were merely show, something to appease Mori since you had just been given your prize, however, it wasn’t for all your hard work of the past years. Rather, it was desperation on Mori’s part to hold you closer within his clutches.

“My, my… I didn’t expect you to be so cold when it comes to Dazai.” Mori stood chuckling but leaving the box behind anyway.

He began to walk toward the closed bathroom door, Elise opening it to escape the humid air within the room. He turned on his heel, however, before breeching back into your private room.

“I expect greatness from you, Izanami. Do not fail me.” It echoed within your head as more of an order, rather than a statement.

You emit a low growl at the name, hating to hear it from him of all Mafia members.

He smiled, pleased by your response, and closed the door behind him.

You wait for a moment, listening for the next click of the door being closed. Once you heard the faint noise of Mori’s departure, you scrambled, nearly slipping, from the tub. You grabbed the plush robe from the chair, donning it instead of the towel you had been holding up. Once you had tied the robe, you tear the gold ribbon from the box, haphazardly letting it flutter to the floor. Your hands hesitate with the lid. What if he knew he was leaving? What if…?

You sit down in the chair, placing the heavy midnight box within your lap. You take a deep breath, lifting the lid and placing it upon the file. Your fingers gingerly graze the gray tissue covering the contents, trembling. You notice a splash of darkness appearing on the gray paper. You harshly rub the remaining tears from your cheeks.

Why are you so afraid to look? To see the last thing he’s left you? Because it’s the last. There is no more Dazai. He’s dead as far as the, now, executive you are concerned, but the young girl in you? The one who’s lost the one person on this God-forsaken earth that could touch you without consequence? She was afraid.

You began to peel back the tissue paper, first noticing the maroon color peeking out within the box. Your finger grazed upon the soft material as you remove the right covering paper. Your fingers go to touch your lips, a small choking gasp escaping through them as your tears now forcefully fall from your eyes. It was a scarf he had bought because you had remarked how it complemented his eyes, yet he could never bring himself to wear it, stating it reminded him too much of Mori. You attempted to pick it up from within the box, but you discovered the additional contents that had been wrapped within. Three books, all too familiar to you shifted underneath the scarf. You could hear yourself begin to sob as you picked up the last remaining things of Oda’s clutching the items to your chest. You pressed your face into the scarf, hoping to find some comfort, smelling burnt gunpowder and a faint woody scent, reminiscent of him. 

You could barely see through your tears, almost missing the final present that graced you.

In Italian, evident that he attempted way too many times to write the note, Happy Birthday, Bella. All my love. ~O <3

~ next part | DBH masterlist | BSD Masterverse

If I forgot to tag anything, or forgot to mention anything in the warnings, please let me know! I'm still just trying to figure all this out after using Wattpad for so long.

Thank you to everyone who reads this though! Hope you enjoy and look forward to what's to come!

[narrans]

My Borrowed Son | 24 | A Waking Nightmare

Chapter Twenty-Four | A Waking Nightmare

Parker couldn’t believe how awesome this new place was. There were so many big spaces and new areas to explore. No longer was the kitchen connected to the living room which was connected to the dining room. The bedrooms were upstairs instead of on the same floor as all the others.

There was a separate spot for Parker’s mom to have an office instead of her having to use part of the living room or her office. There were carpeted parts of the house as well as tile and hard wood. There were two whole bathrooms and even a balcony that overlooked a back yard.

All of this was new and amazing for Parker.

Sure, he still had his space that he would be staying in, but Parker was already making plans to make some transportation structures for easy access from his room to the kitchen and bathroom.

One of those things included an elevator that he would get put into the wall. It would be a simple cut out from the floor to part of the wall in the kitchen. The actual mechanism would be inside of the wall.

Parker knew his mom was probably going to have some objections to it overall just because she probably didn’t want holes cut into their new home and Parker would be designing the pulley system himself. Still, he was confident that he could persuade her if he pointed out he would be climbing the stairs manually.

She didn’t like when he climbed too high.

It was an open and shut case.

So, as Parker helped unload all of the various cables and started setting up his area, he began scouting the floorboards and the rooms for the best place for him to put some of the contraptions he wanted to include in the home.

As he did, there was an odd feeling in the air that he couldn’t quite place. It was like the same sensation he got right before his mom entered the room or the sensation that overwhelmed his mind when he woke up from his reoccurring nightmare, which was happening more frequently recently.

It was the same dream every time, though some of the details changed from time to time.

The dark clouds. Some kind of boat. Someone calling to him as he was suddenly dragged under the waves. Not being able to breathe. Fear. Cold. Darkness.

Just the thought petrified the young teen.

Parker had to remind himself it was just a dream. He had actually posted about the dream a few times on his blog and a few people suggested it might be more of a memory than a nightmare, but Parker couldn’t remember anything like that in his lifetime. He did have to acknowledge the fact that some studies he read up on about dreams said that dreams couldn’t pull from information a person didn’t already have.

It was weird, and the more he thought about it the more it made Parker’s head hurt. Putting the dream aside, there was something about this house that set Parker’s senses on edge. It almost felt alive. Every time he approached the walls while hooking up his cables, Parker felt like a magnet drawn to steel.

Perhaps it was just his adventures that one night into the walls that compelled him to venture into the walls again. Perhaps it was just natural curiosity that drew him to explore what was unknown. Or, as another crazy thought, perhaps Parker wanted to compare the walls of his old home to his new home to see what differences there were.

He remembered the interior walls next to the drywall being unusually tidy and the little sketch mark still had no official translation. Were there marks like that in this house too?

Parker kind of wanted to know.

But did he really?

Conflicted, Parker continued hooking up all of his wires until, finally, his space was fully operational. Other than the water, which his mom hooked up after he informed her everything else was in place, all Parker had to do was help organize the drawers and chat with his mom.

They talked about everything while they worked. School. Future study plans now that midterms were over, and Parker would have to start thinking about what he wanted to study in the spring semester. They also talked about Lyn and how she was doing.

It made Parker just the slightest bit uncomfortable that they were talking about her simply because his body started doing funny things when he thought about his female classmate. Sure, she was a couple years older than him, their group of friends celebrating her sixteenth birthday just last week, but there was something about her that made Parker feel warm and tingly, excited and nervous, confident and seen.

It wasn’t until the movers came with all of the other furniture that Parker noticed his mom act a little strangely. She quickly ushered him up to his room and told him that she didn’t want him to get hurt.

“I’ll be okay, mom,” ensured Parker. “I’ll be on the counters and on the windowsill. They won’t hurt me. They’re not kids.”

“Parker, I would rather you not be out and about while they’re bringing everything in. There’s going to be so much movement and things swinging around and possibly falling. I would just feel better if you just took a break and relaxed in your room. Don’t worry. You’ll be able to help put everything when you want it when they’re done,” countered his mom.

Parker wanted to continue the discussion but ended up complying with his mom and retreating back to his room. There was something in her tone that sounded panicked and uneasy. It was like she didn’t want him to be seen and didn’t want him to talk to the movers.

That’s weird. I know she’s protective, but I thought it would be different now. I’m older. I’m almost fifteen. I can look after myself. I’m careful.

Parker huffed a huge sigh and flopped down on his bed where he found himself daydreaming about meeting Lyn for the first time. He thought about what she would say about his height, which he already had some lines for, or so he thought. He imagined what it would be like to hug her. He even dared to think about what it would be like to kiss her.

This brought about a whole range of emotions that made Parker squirm uncomfortably. He wasn’t sure where that thought came from, but he quickly shook himself out of his fantasy and turned his attention to his books and finishing setting up his room.

It was hours later when the sound of thumping and talking voices finally subsided. There were a few times when the voices sounded close to Parker’s door, but no one entered his room. In fact, Parker felt his hair stand on end and he actually retreated further into his space when he heard the voices.

It was another weird sensation of wanting to talk to new people and meet them but also wanting to retreat and hide away.

It made his head hurt, but he didn’t spend time dwelling on it. Too much time had already been dedicated to it in the past, and Parker didn’t find any use thinking about stuff he couldn’t solve. There were too many other books and subjects for him to learn about anyway.

Parker eventually emerged from his room, actually soldier crawling under the door to get out of his bedroom and climbed down the stairs. He wasn’t sure where the idea came from, but he snagged a few thumb tacks and taped them to his shoes and the used the carpet fibers as solid handholds as he climbed down each individual step.

The young teen was rather pleased with himself by the time he made it down to the bottom step and carefully took off his shoes before walking into the kitchen where he saw his mom unpacking plates and bowls.

“Hey mom,” Parker called. She stopped moving immediately and scanned the floor for Parker, smiling when she found him.

“Hey there, sweetheart. Were you calling for me? I’m sorry. I just thought I’d put these things away really quick before coming up to see what you wanted to eat for dinner,” said his mom as she knelt and extended her hand.

“No worries. I just got down here,” said Parker. Amanda glanced down at her child as she lifted him onto the counter.

“How did you get down here?” the thought that entered her mind changed Amanda’s expression to one of worry and disbelief. “You didn’t climb down them, did you?”

Parker sat quietly and averted his gaze bashfully. There was no denying what he had done, so he decided now was as good of a time as any to bring up his idea about the elevator.

“Um… well… I did have to climb, but I was really careful!” Parker insisted. His mom gave him another worried look and shook her head. “No! I really was! I used some thumb tacks on my shoes and made sure I had a tight grip on the carpet before coming down. Which! I actually had an idea for. Since I’m on the top floor and my room is across from the kitchen, I could implement my elevator idea.”

“Parker…”

“I know you’re worried about the idea, so I decided to draw up the plans and try it out on the desk. All I need to do is build it and then you’ll have a chance to see that it’s a solid design,” insisted Parker. Amanda sighed heavily as she set her hand onto the counter. Parker could see his mom would need far more convincing. The reluctance was tangible.

So instead of pressing the issue, he decided to start dragging away the paper and stuffing that was in between the dishes while he listened to yet another safety spiel his mom had rehearsed. It was a conversation he had dozens of times before, especially when it came to him climbing and experimentally inventing contraptions. She was usually very supportive of everything else except for the two specific topics of certain climbing inventions and visiting friends in person.

Honestly, he tuned out most of what his mom had to say simply because he had heard it so many times before. Parker instead diligently worked and nodded, agreeing mindlessly. He would have continued to do so except something caught his attention that made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

Just for a moment, the teenage boy could have sworn that he saw the electrical cover on the other side of the counter move on its own. It didn’t shift down as if falling. It shifted up – as if being shifted back into place.

He shook his head as his heart skipped a few beats. He felt like he was on pins and needles. Everything felt electrified in his body. His head swirled uncomfortably as if he was about to pass out, which Parker had never done before.

“Parker? Parker?” His mom’s voice shook him out of his temporary stupor. “Is everything okay? You look a bit pale.”

Parker looked over at his mom and then back to the electrical cover.

“I… sorry. I thought I saw the electric cover move,” Parker said in a daze. There was immediately a look of concern on her face as she looked over at the island behind her. Before Parker could say anything, his mom walked over and jiggled the cover. Sure enough, it was a bit loose and actually came off.

“Well, that’s not good,” she muttered. “I’ll have to screw that in tighter.” There was something about seeing that electrical cover open that drew Parker to it once more. Though the island was a place he definitely couldn’t reach, Parker suddenly found himself on the edge of the counter looking down at the sheer drop beneath him. The sensation was thrilling and terrifying as he looked down at the vertigo inducing distance.

“Anyway, what do you want to have for dinner? You get to pick,” said his mom as she snapped the cover back into place and turned to face him.

“Um… Chinese? It’s been a while since we’ve had it,” suggested Parker.

“Wonderful. I’ll go ahead and order it. And to watch after dinner?”

Parker decided he wanted to watch The Matrix. It was a bit of an adult movie, but he had been allowed to see it before while his mother censored some of the “naughty” bits. The concepts of defining what was and wasn’t real while also delving into the technology that existed in the world was fascinating to him.

Parker thought it might be fun to get into computer programming simply because he wanted to be able to write code and maybe create mods for the games he enjoyed playing. Lyn evidently knew a little bit about programming and mod creation, and Parker was more than eager to pick her brain about it.

The thought of what made the electrical cover shift slowly faded in the teen’s mind as his mother occupied him with other chores and preparing for dinner. The movie and the food were both phenomenal, but during both Parker couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being watched. Something kept drawing his eyes upward toward the trim at the ceiling or by the other electrical covers around the room.

There was something that felt alive about this house, and Parker didn’t like it. When it came time for bed, Parker actually brought it up to his mom.

“Do… you feel weird in the house? Like… are you getting a weird feeling?” asked Parker as his mom came in to wish him a good night. Amanda had been getting a weird feeling, but it wasn’t until Parker said something that she fully elected to acknowledge the sensations around her.

“Well, a little, but I think that’s normal. This is a new house. Maybe we’re just not used to it yet,” suggested his mom. Parker sighed and nodded as he tugged at the hair on the back of his neck and rubbed just beneath his hairline. “Do you feel uncomfortable? Like you don’t want to be alone?”

“Maybe,” he muttered. Amanda, seeing her son’s discomfort, had an idea.

“Here. One second.” She went down to the living room and retrieved the old baby monitor that she and Parker used. It was something she hadn’t used in years, but it certainly aided her when she couldn’t be near Parker. When she brought it up, Parker recognized the contraption immediately.

“The baby monitor? Mom, I’m not a baby,” grumbled Parker as his cheeks warmed with embarrassment.

“I know you’re not, but the radio still works. If you need anything, you can just shout, and I’ll hear it in the other room. Just for now until the feeling goes away. Sound good?” asked Amanda. Parker considered the electronic device for a minute before deciding to relent. It was a good idea, and it was more of a radio than anything else.

The teen agreed reluctantly, and Amanda quickly set it up in the hallway just outside of his room for relative privacy’s sake. Then, with a kiss, Amanda wished her son the best dreams and went off to bed herself.

Parker curled up into bed and stared at the ceiling for what felt like hours before feeling an inkling of being tired. There was something about this place that made him uneasy. Perhaps it was just the relative unease of moving to a new home. It was the first time he had moved before after all.

It was these thoughts that Parker eventually fell asleep to.

Sadly, his dreams were not the best or the sweetest one he was asleep.

The nightmare appeared once again, but there was more to it than last time.

Parker could feel the chilling rain surrounding him. Someone’s arms were wrapped around him and telling him that they were going to be okay. Walls of water surrounded him, and he clung to the person tightly. He couldn’t describe it, but he trusted whoever it was that held him with all of his heart.

Another wall of water crashed over him. The darkness of the sky lit up just in time for him to look into the faceless features of the person who held onto him so tightly. All at once, he was dragged away, swallowed by the wave of water and spat out in the mud and leaves.

He turned in time to see the person being held back as they too were dragged under the waves of endless water surrounding him. Someone called out something to him that he couldn’t hear.

Fear.

Primal terror.

Loneliness.

Parker clutched something to his chest as the dark shadows surrounded him. He whimpered and tried to get away, but one shadow emerged and grabbed him. He threw out his arms and tried to push it away, but immediately Parker knew something was off.

For one, he registered that his hands made contact with something. Times before in his dreams, there was never resistance.

Most unnervingly was the fact something – someone – said his name.

“Parker? Shush and wake up!”

Wake up? What on ea-…

Parker opened his eyes and, to his horror, spotted a shadowy figure looming over him. From the sound of the voice, it was a girl speaking to him. For a second, Parker thought this was still part of the dream.

Vision sharpening instantly and sleep banished from his eyes, Parker pulled his legs free from his blankets and kicked, launching the figure across the room. She grunted in pain and gasped for air with the wind knocked out of her. Parker was on his feet in an instant and practically threw himself at his touch lamp, smacking it unnecessarily hard as the room illuminated.

There, standing up with difficulty, was a teen about the same age as him, possibly younger. Her hair was dark brown, and her eyes were basically black. She had mismatch pieces of fabric for clothing as well as a collection of weird contraptions at her hips. Her hair was in a low ponytail, which only kept her hip length hair out of her face. She forced herself to her feet and gasped for air again as she glared at him.

“You kicked me!” she hissed accusatorily. “Whatever. Come on! We have to go! Now!”

Parker knew two things.

One, he was drenched from his nightmare.

Two.

There was no way this was a dream. The way his heart pounded and the sensation of landing not one but two solid blows on the girl. His entire body trembled violently, and nausea immediately punched him in the gut.

What was this?

What was going on?

Panicked at seeing this stranger, let alone one his size, standing right there in front of him triggered an instinctual response that Parker couldn’t begin to understand.

He started to shout.

“M-mom! Mom! There’s someone here! Someone’s in the house!”

He wasn’t sure why he started shouting. Perhaps it was the instinctual fear and the involuntary need to be saved, but his body acted on its own as he called out to his mom.

The girl’s eyes widened, and she shied away immediately, retreating into the shadows of the next room.

“Dude! Shut up!” she hissed. “The human will hear you!”

“H-human? What?” Parker asked. His head swirled again and he staggered to the wall, leaning heavily against it. He gasped several times for air that left his lungs unsatisfied as his vision by the girl blurred.

“Are you coming or not!?” The girl didn’t wait for more than two seconds before turning on her heel and running toward the stairs. The sound of her retreating footsteps summoned Parker’s attention, and he chased after her.

“Wait! What? Where are you going?” Parker shouted. The girl stopped on the stairs and glared at him.

“Stop shouting, you moron!” she chastised as she continued running. Parker’s mind was running wild, but he spotted the baby monitor and did the only thing he could think to do. His mom couldn’t hear him here, but she could with the monitor.

He darted forward and threw his weight into the button and shouted as loud as he could.

“Mom! Mom! Come here! Quick! There’s someone in the house!”

He heard the girl curse as she left his house. Parker barely made it to the window in time to see her give one more fateful glance upward toward him, briefly making eye-contact, before vanishing off of the side of the desk.

Moments later, Parker heard his mother’s footsteps thundering through the hall and into his room.

“Parker? Parker!” she called as she rushed over to the desk, practically ripping the hinges as she threw the door open to look into Parker’s space. Parker shakily staggered toward his mom, mindlessly pointing toward the backside of the desk.

“Mom! There… th-there… there was a girl! There was a girl here in my room! She… sh-she… she was… l-like me. She was little like me!” Parker ran his fingers through his hair as he staggered toward his mom’s open hands. He was heaving in breath after breath, choking back the urge to vomit.

“Is there anyone else here, Parker?” asked his mom as she looked wildly around the room and back over her shoulder toward the stairs leading downstairs.

“W-what? No. I… I don’t think so. B-but mom. Sh-she was my size. She…” Parker let himself fall into his mom’s hands as he tried to calm his breathing. Everything hurt, especially his head.

Amanda, seeing Parker in such a state, looked at the state of his clothes and glanced around his space. Nothing looked disturbed or different. Parker was drenched from head to toe. She had to wonder if he actually saw someone or if it was just a bad dream.

“Parker, are you sure you saw someone? Are you sure it wasn’t a nightmare?” asked Amanda.

“No! Mom! Check by the desk legs! I know what I saw!” shouted Parker. Amanda did as he instructed and looked at the legs of the desk and the electrical covers nearby.

Nothing looked out of place.

Was it just a dream?

Could it have been a dream?

Honestly, what were the chances of there being a small girl living here in the house with them?

Then again, Parker existed, so couldn’t someone else?

What were they doing here?

Were they here for Parker?

Why? Why would they be?

And, Heaven forbid, what if they tried to talk to Parker before she could?

She didn’t want to distress Parker further and decided to compromise for the time being.

“Parker, I don’t know how much searching we can do here in the dark. Come to my room and get some rest. We’ll take a thorough look around in the morning,” said Amanda. Parker, still visibly shaking, looked back at his space. Doubt began to fill his mind.

Did he see what he saw?

Was it a part of his imagination?

No… it couldn’t have been….

And there was something else too…

There was something in his mom’s tone that made Parker the slightest bit uneasy. Did she believe him? And, if she did, why wasn’t she doing something about it now? Was she trying to dissuade him from looking? Was she trying to hide something from him?  

Head throbbing, Parker tentatively agreed to stay with his mom for the evening. He wanted to sleep without the threat of waking again; but he wouldn’t forget this sensation.

He needed to do some of his own investigating tomorrow first thing when he got the chance.

Tomorrow… he would try and find his own answers.

~~~~~^*^*^*^*^~~~~~

Continue

Previous

Beginning

[showrunnerihardlyknowher]

It's A Bittersweet Symphony And I Am Tone-Deaf

AND SO WE BEGIN, BABES. For the next 25 days, we will be writing small, bittersweet oneshots featuring a variety of OCs I've used prior and will be posting the full stories of after this challenge is over. After this, I will officially be going on hiatus for a bit, so I hope a 25 chapter fic of mini ficlets will be enough to satisfy for now

We're starting off with some lesser known characters, but also baby's first g/t OCs from waaaaay back in the day, Alama and Cassius! For a quick rundown, Cassius is a fox who serves as a knight for the kingdom, while Alama is a mouse who lives in a village of prey within the kingdom's land. Cassius was head over heels for her the moment they met, but Alama knows better than to think a predator can truly love her...

--

Day 1: Proposal (Alama/Cassius) // AO3 Link

To be invited within the halls of the elders was a highly sought out honor few were ever given no matter how desperate they were to prove themselves as worthy. Villagers were more likely to be cast out by those wise, whispering elders after their private exchanges than they were to actually speak to any of the members face to face. It was regarded as a sacred blessing to be seen as someone with equal poise and intelligence by the circle of leaders, to be worthy enough that they could be graced by their just presence and bestowed upon private insight. So many others would kill to be called upon, all of which were probably stewing in indignation that such a humble little mouse girl had been urged to come at once.

So why was Alama despising every minute of every word spoken to her by the revered ones?

Her heart felt like it was going to beat straight out of her chest, a nervousness that should not be mistaken for the same excitement other villagers might dream of feeling. Anxiety must be rolling off her in unmistakable waves as her mother reached over to clasp one of her clammy hands between her own. The warm touch did help to ground her slightly, but the tremble in all her limbs refused to dissipate as the elders continued to droll on about the most awful situation before them.

Cassius had asked for her hand in marriage.

Once upon a time, Alama could have laughed at such a ridiculous notion. A fox wanting to wed a mouse, purely out of the love in his heart? And not just the typical, towering man like so many other predators, but an honored knight as well, a protector to the kingdom that carelessly ruled over the gaggles of prey villages in addition to their own kind. It was preposterous, it was destined to fail before the honeymoon! They must think her a fool to believe there were any good intentions behind the fox’s desire to claim her as a bride. Sure, for the entirety of the self proclaimed courtship, he was nothing short of a proper gentleman, but she was not going to be persuaded so easily by his manners and bashful smile.

“No,” she caught herself saying after one of the elders finished laying out the terms of agreement. Her ears were pinned back into the waves of brown that she fussed into a bun, foolishly hoping her appearance would make a good impression on the esteemed council. Had Alama known this is what she would be subjected to, she might have made herself as decent as a nightwalker to dissuade the decision. Perhaps that was what she should have done the first time the fox had shown the barest amount of interest in her.

The elder formerly speaking, a man with far too many wrinkles to count, furrowed his bushy brows at her. “I beg your pardon?”

Alama swallowed nervously. Gods, who did she think she was to defy the council so boldly? She could sense her father bristling next to her for speaking out of turn, though he did not dare to punish her while he was also in full view of the elders. “No, I…I do not wish to marry him.”

“This has nothing to do with your wishes,” the same elder said, the multitude of wrinkles morphing into a hard frown. “Sir Cassius has agreed to a most generous offer of continuing his personal service of guarding our village in exchange for your hand. We will not be refusing.”

We? You act as if you all are being forced to be his bride! The mouse wanted to scream. How could they tell her this union had nothing to do with her desires when she herself was one half of the marriage! Cassius, ever the noble knight, had already been doing a valiant job in protecting the village in addition to his actual, important duties to serve the kingdom that ruled over them both. He had taken it upon himself to prove that he was a sufficient protector of Alama and her people the first time he requested to court her, mere days after their first formal meeting, and now it seemed he was ready for his payment. 

She couldn’t believe this. Her life was really being negotiated in a contract, to sell away her very being to repay the cost of a guard no one asked to hire. Of course, she had known the fox was in this for the long con, but no one ever believed her claims. It didn’t matter how many lovely outings he took her on, how he never touched her without her express permission (of which she rarely granted), how he looked at her as if she were a goddess rather than a palm sized maiden. Predators and preys just simply did not mix, not as allies, and certainly not as spouses. True, Alama hadn’t the faintest idea of what Cassius could be planning that would require them to become husband and wife, yet she didn’t care to find out.

Alama squeezed her mother’s hand. “And I have no say in this?”

“You can say you agree,” Another council member said, leaning forward to steeple his bony fingers. “And it would be very wise of you to do so.”

No, she couldn’t stomach the thought and she shook her head as now her throat was threatening to close up. Her mother cooed to her, drawing one her hands away to cup Alama’s flushed cheek and turn her towards her. “Sweetheart, you said it yourself, he’s a kind man. He wants to take care of you, is that so bad?”

“He’s a fox,” Alama whimpered. “He serves the same crown that hardly sees our kind as anything more than…than pests. And you want to give me away to him?”

To her mother’s credit, there was a similar shining of unshed tears brimming in her eyes. She gave her daughter a watery smile, though her ears remained downturn. “He adores you, Ala, surely you can see that.”

It was true, she could see the utter devotion Cassius inexplicably had for her and it was sickening. How could he care for her so much? Did he not comprehend that on the social hierarchy she was nothing to him? Even within her own colony of mice, Alama did not bear any high ranking status that might catch the eye of a suitor. She was a common maiden, and a tiny mouse at that, yet everyone acted as if she was the hysterical one for being wary of the fox’s hidden intentions. She should be grateful. She should feel blessed. Instead, she only felt terrified.

Alama sniffled, resisting the urge to hide in her mother’s chest as if she were a little girl. She was already putting on an embarrassing display of pitiful defiance before the elders, there was no need to worsen their sour opinion of her. “But why does he want me? Why can no one else see how deranged that is?”

“Love makes the heart do strange things,” her mother crooned.

“But I don’t love him!” The tears were on the verge of running down her flushed face, her trembling voice cracking at her confession. Could it still be considered a confession if she had made her stance on this one sided romance as clear as ice since the first time she caught the knight looking at her with such desire? Previously, she had mistaken it for a hunger all predators instinctively felt when catching their natural prey, yet somehow the revelation that he wanted more than a simple meal from her was all the more distressing. “Why do I not get a say in my own marriage!?”

“You’re acting like a child,” her father snapped. It was a miracle he was able to hold his temper for this long, especially while his daughter was blubbering away in front of the council. He grabbed her roughly by the arm to yank her out of her mother’s embrace, forcing her to sit straight and forward in front of the burning eyes of the elders. This was feeling less like an honor and more like a sentencing. 

Her nose and throat burned, but the simmering injustice within her soul was sparking far hotter. She pulled her arm from his hold, directing her anger towards him rather than face the men who were trying to send her to her doom. “I am a child, I am your child! Your only daughter is to be married off to a predator and you feel no sympathy?”

Another elder at the far end of the sprawling desk scoffed. “It is you who should feel sympathy, girl. This betrothment is what will guarantee an era of peace and protection. A member of the crown is willing to give up his time and energy to ensure the safety of an entire village, but you want to be selfish.”

“Do you really think a woman in your position is more valuable than the community of a near hundred?” The wrinkled elder added. “All you’ve told us is that you believe the village that sheltered you, the people who raised you into the ungrateful woman you are now, are not worth the comfort of protection in exchange for a few vows.”

“There are princesses in arranged marriages who are married off to cruel kings. You should be grateful to have a husband who can find it in his heart to care for you at all.” The bony one said.

The barrage of accusations on her character stung worse than any backhand her father would be delivering to her in the privacy of their home. Tears dripped down Alama’s chin as she ducked her head in shame, the rage that wanted to spread into a wildfire for her bodily rights extinguished just like the many women who had tried to stand up for themselves before her. “N-no…no, that’s not, I-I didn’t–” It was a useless debate to begin with. The answer was never hers to make and had already been decided long before they requested her to be present. The council wasn’t seeking her permission, they were simply letting her know the terms of agreement before she would be whisked away as a bride. 

Her mother’s hand caressed her now dampened cheek again, but Alama refused to turn and meet her eyes. “You don’t know that this will be an unhappy marriage…”

She did know, because they were not even wed yet and already she was unhappy. She was unhappy during their courtship. She was unhappy when he continued to stalk around the village, a blushing fool whenever their eyes met. She was unhappy the moment the fox had been spotted by the other mice as he made his rounds on the royal land. And every time, her unhappiness was shoved aside by the insistence of others for her to do the right thing at the expense of her wellbeing. It felt as if her happiness in general did not matter, no matter how much her future fiance insisted it did.

If Cassius genuinely cared so deeply for her like he proclaimed, he would have left Alama the hell alone.

The elder with spindly hands clapped them once. “The matter is settled then. Alama Pernelle shall wed Sir Cassius in exchange for his continued services. We will tell him her answer at once.”

Her answer was no! It has always been no! Yet Alama knew better than to expect her honest answer to be the one that was given. Her brooding silence was close enough to a ‘yes’ for all parties involved in this affair, just short of the new bride herself. When all the elders stood from their lines of seating, her father had to pull her shoulder to make her rise as well. She blinked away a few lingering tears in confusion, watching as the men impatiently waited for her by the grand doors that lead to the courtyard.

“N-now? We’re telling him now?” Alama squeaked. After all she had just been put through, they now expected her to face the man who would soon be her husband in this state? Her eyes puffy and dress wrinkled from how tightly she balled the fabric in her fists, voice ready to choke on an ill timed hiccup. Well, perhaps that wouldn’t be too miserable of a display to put on for Cassius. Maybe then he would finally get it through his head that she was not worthy to be doted on by such a glorious predator, never mind wedded to one. 

“Yes now. Do you not listen?” Her father grumbled, shoving her forward to follow the men outside while her parents exited behind their daughter.

Just as expected, Cassius was waiting for the group to appear, looking as imposing as ever in his steel gray armor that encased his slim figure. Upon seeing the flock of mice approach him, he dropped into a kneel, though Alama did not miss the way his orange tail began to swish once he had spotted her amongst the others. His eyes refused to stray to any of the other smaller beings, a warm smile that twisted her heart gracing his handsome face. Had he been of similar size, the mouse was certain she’d be swooning. However, it was because of the size Cassius was cursed with that she felt so faint. She couldn’t bear to look upon his brilliant expression when she knew she was unable to mask her own and kept her head lowered.

The moment she looked away from him, the delight slipped from his features, immediately assuming his question had been met with rejection. And he was right, but her rejection didn’t matter as it was effortlessly outvoted by the elders. Still, Cassius, the wonderful lovestruck fool that he was, had the audacity to put her emotions before his own and hesitantly reach a hand towards her. The fox didn’t touch her, he never dared to touch her unless she allowed it, but the silent offer was presented to her.

“Alama, are you alr-”

“Sir Cassius,” The wrinkled elder cut in. “Your proposal has been accepted.”

This took him by surprise as Alama’s disposition did not invoke the same energy as that of a blushing bride, much more like a recent widow. “It…has?”

The elder nodded. “Alama Pernelle has agreed to become your wife, and in exchange we ask that you continue on with your gracious task of preserving her homeland from threats.”

“Oh, oh yes, right, I mean, that was always a given,” Cassius chuckled nervously, still eying up Alama’s suspicious lack of joy. Really now, what was he expecting? It wasn’t as if she ever presented herself as a bundle of sunshine whenever she was asked to be in his company. The mouse had always closed herself off around him. There were a few times she had found herself actually…enjoying his personality, allowing a few smiles to slip through and a handful of giggles to be hurt. These were the moments that hurt her the most because she knew she was teetering on a dangerous ledge. One wrong move and she may go off the deep end, head over heels the whole way down to her demise.

If only fate had been a little kinder. If only she had been born into a family of cats or wolves, a species that could offer him a better wife to fawn over. 

She heard Cassius’s breath hitch. “Alama, you’re crying.”

Was she? Oh, gods, she was. Hastily, she rubbed the backs of her hands over her eyes to rid herself of any more tears that might give her away. She sniffled, a noise which immediately morphed into a strange sobbed that she barely had time to muffle behind her hand. No, no, no. She couldn’t lose her composure like this. Not in front of the council, not in front of Cassius. Surely this was a sign for a doomed engagement if the bride was on the verge of breaking down into a fit of tears. 

No one else cared, though. Her mother was quick to wrap her arms around Alama’s trembling shoulders, but she offered her comfort to her future son rather than her own daughter. “Tears of joy,” her mother reassured the wary fox, “A wedding can cause so much excitement for a young woman, why, there’s just no other way to express it!”

“She’s always been an emotional one,” her father chimed in. Though her vision was blurred from a fresh wave of tears, she knew Cassius didn’t believe him for a second considering she forced herself to show the fox only the bare minimum. Besides, all women were hysterical weepers to men like her father. She hardly doubted her mother was also sobbing tears of happiness this late into her union with him.

“And you’re sure this is what you want?” Cassius asked, lowering himself further in an attempt to make Alama look at his sweet, trusting face.

One of the elders stepped forward. “Of course this is what she wants. It would be nothing short of an honor t-”

“I’m asking her,” The fox said. His tone was clipped, but it wasn’t as harsh as many other predators would growl. Regardless, it was more than enough to make the man clamp his mouth shut and move away towards the group of other council members yet again. “If she wants to be my wife, I want to hear her say it.”

Oh no. Please, gods, no. Though his intentions appeared noble, he had no idea what kind of pressure he was putting on her at this very moment. He was leaving the decision to wed entirely up to her, something she wanted more than anything as her answer was the one that went against the grain. It was a chance to express her true feelings, to set the record of their relationship straight, to stand up for herself as a young woman. But she couldn’t. The fallout that would come of it was a weight too heavy to bear alone. The village would shun her for her selfish deed, perhaps even execute her as punishment for leaving them to succumb to the fate of a predator. Whether or not that would be Cassius who tore the village to shreds was undetermined, but either way it was a massacre waiting to happen.

“Alama,” No, please, no. Don’t say it. Don’t ask. “Will you marry me?”

With a struggling gulp of air, Alama managed to silence any remaining sobs that fluttered in her chest. She shrugged off her mother’s unhelpful touch, mustering her courage to look up at the fox who even now, with her tear stricken face and burning cheeks, still revered her as if she were the golden sun. Beautiful, bright, warm, all things she could never be.

“I…” She swallowed again. When his hand inched closer to her, she did not refute his touch and let him rub his thumb against her face to wipe away the wet trails that still clung, brushing a few waves of hair out of her eyes in the process. It was unreal how gentle he could be given his size and profession. A man like him shouldn’t exist, at least not in the body of a predator. “I-I do.”

The dazzling smile Cassius flashed made her want to throw up.

[izzabeean]

Chapter 12 : Uncertainty

SUMMARY

A new situation presents itself that causes you to rethink a couple of things.

pairing : ushjima x f!reader / oikawa x f!reader / iwaizumi x f!reader

genre : angst + fluff

word count : 3,299

content : profanity, slightly suggestive nsfw

tags :  alternate universe - college/university, post-break up, friends to lovers, pining, slow burn

a/n : another late chapter because it's been a bit difficult to sit myself down and write this one, it's a bit of a long one. I know no one is meant to address weaknesses but the dialogue is so hard for me to write! but anyway please enjoy xx

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Alone, at last.

The serene silence of the apartment fills you with relief as Oikawa left you by yourself to go out for a jog. Seeing as you haven’t had much time to yourself since moving in with him, you weren't extremely grateful to be able to sit back, relax and watch your favorite show for what seems like the zillionth time.

But this surge of anxiety rumbles from within while your mind seems to spiral wondering where Iwaizumi could be. He still hasn’t come back from his outing, hasn’t even updated when he will be back. And your attempt to distract yourself isn’t remotely engaging as you continue to check your phone for messages. 

Maybe there’s a personal reason why he is taking so long. 

Yes, he’s with friends, yet the word ‘friend’ could be defined so inconsistently on your tongue. For instance, a friend could be the beginning of a possible more-than-friends scenario or the description of a secret relationship. Perhaps a girl he didn’t want to tell anyone about or perhaps even a promised fuck-buddy agreement for when he visits. 

You grind your teeth wishing you could stop the worry festering. And because you’ve started to rummage in what if delusions, you decide that the only cure is to light a smoke.

Oikawa hasn’t been out for long and told you he’d be gone for an hour or so. So, you take the chance to keep your secret still a secret, by looking for the cartridge stashed in your jacket. 

Weird, you think sifting through the pocket to which you find nothing. Even when searching the rest of your things, other pockets, and bags, you can’t seem to locate the pack. It’s been a while since your last smoke and try to trace your tracks to where it could possibly have gone to. Obviously, it wouldn’t get up and leave... 

Usually, it wouldn’t aggravate you this much to find something, often you were used to misplacing things and having them show up eventually. However, this down-right pissed you off. You eye up your jacket persuading yourself you have enough time to go out to the corner store and grab a pack. The nearest shop is a couple of blocks away and you can have it out there instead of at the apartment where Oikawa can definitely catch you. 

But in your head, the plan seems too risky trying to play it out. And instead, you let out a yawn grabbing a textbook off your desk remembering that you should probably be a good student instead of pursuing bad habits.

Walking into the living room, you lower the television volume to create some background noise so the place isn’t totally quiet making you vulnerable to the slightest floor creek. The apartment sounds aren’t what you’re used to and you most definitely predict your paranoia will obliterate your concentration. 

That’s not all that does though. 

The warm cozy lighting in the room starts to relax your mind a bit more while you start to take notes. It could be the fact you’re reading a piece of text from one of your most boring classes or due to another long day, but you find yourself reading the same paragraph over again, and over again, and over again trying to absorb the content on the pages. You pinch yourself to stay awake whilst your vision starts to blur and slowly your eyes slowly close… 

------

You’re in your apartment bathroom. 

It’s not quite the same sleek compact room you’re used to-- the walls are covered in water damage, with the paint slowly peeling off some parts and the floor is torn up exposing the old floorboards. 

The new decor doesn't phase you though as you lean in towards the mirror touching up your lashes with a thin coat of mascara. Once you back up to take a look at your reflection checking for any flaws, you notice a sense of familiarity in this inspection. Like you've lived this all before. A part of you chuckles thinking you're just paranoid, but an unexpected knock echoes the room causing you to jump.

You freeze, listening closely as you try to quiet your breathing wondering if you were just hearing things. You must be.

Analyzing your reflection more, you notice you're dressed up in the same clothes you were going to wear that night you and Ushijima were supposed to celebrate your final year at university together. The same night he broke up with you.

Curiosity mixed with fear causes your eyes to glaze over not wanting to relive that moment again. 

Another knock sounds.

Before you could persuade yourself to stop, you walk out into the hallway to answer the door. The anguish in your chest grows stronger and stronger while the suspense heightens upon getting closer and closer. All you ever wanted was to be happy with someone who accepts you for who you are. Someone that would be there for you through thick and thin. And here you are once again reliving the thing that haunts you the most. You don’t know if you can take the rejection again, but your body can't stop. It wants to see Ushijima.

Reaching for the cold knob you turn the handle slowly opening the door that emanates Ushijima's daunting aura. Horror that once filled your eyes almost instantly vanishes though because instead, you face Iwaizumi.

“What are you doing here?” you breathe. “I’m supposed to--”

You're cut off by an aggressive push from Iwaizumi into your apartment. You don't flinch as your entire body freezes in shock from him pressing you up against a wall. It’s dangerous how close he is, you can see his pupils dilate as he pulls in closer, bending down to nuzzle his face into your neck. You feel a rush of electricity that tingles from the top of your head to your toes.

“You’ve been wanting this for a while now,” Iwaizumi hums. “Haven’t you?”

His teeth graze against your neck as he forces his knee between your legs and slides it upward. You let your body melt into it with a soft gasp as your nerves excite.

He pulls back and you’re dying to see the look he has on his face, but notice you are no longer looking at Iwaizumi… No, now you’re looking at Oikawa. 

Your eyes widen as his face dips down towards you, but you dodge and push him in an attempt to free yourself. He doesn’t budge leaning in closer tilting your chin up with his hands so he can look you in the eyes. His touch is gentle, not threatening but his eyes are drunk with lust.

“I thought it was me you wanted,” he purrs, eyes searching in yours for an answer.

But your throat squeezes shut restricting you from forming the words you wish to and his face inches closer closing in the space between you. You thought you’d be more reluctant for this to stop, but the thrill igniting inside you pushes you further as you slowly slide your hand into Oikawa’s hair. Closing your eyes waiting to be entangled in each other, but the kiss doesn’t connect.

When you open your eyes, you’re in your room sitting on your bed next to Ushijima. Everything feels lighter contrasting to the enticing atmosphere from before. 

He pushes the hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear. You can’t look away seeing as this is the closest you’ve been to him since you were together. 

It feels like home. It feels right.

He runs his thumb over your lips as he leans in sealing his lips over yours. 

No, we shouldn’t, your brain screams, but you let yourself indulge in his warm soft kiss as he holds you close.

------

The act instantly jolts you awake.

You blink still feeling the essence of Ushijima’s kiss linger on your lips and the traces of his hands holding you close. But it looks like you’re not alone as you find yourself facing Iwaizumi who’s holding up a blanket.

“D--did I wake you?” he asks, straightening himself up, startled by your sudden rouse.

“No, no,” you say, before sitting up. Your heart almost skips a beat as you immediately envision Iwaizumi pressing up against you. And, as if on cue, your ears start to burn up unable to actually look at him before rubbing your eyes hoping to hide from the sheer embarrassment plastered all over your face. 

“How did it go… With your friends?” you express, in an attempt to change the subject to leave behind your suggestive dream.

“It was good,” he sighs, taking a seat beside you on the couch. “Had a lot to catch up on. You should meet them actually, I feel like you’d all get along.”

“That’d be cool,” you smile.

Then it occurs to you this is the first time you’ve been alone together since the kiss. Your options could be to completely avoid the topic as if it never happened, but a little voice inside keeps reminding you to say something. But how can you when even speaking about your actions is deeply embarrassing? Why didn’t you just think before you act? Then perhaps, this awkward conversation you’re about to have wouldn’t have to happen.

“But maybe warn them, if you plan to kiss them,” he teases.

“Um…” you feel your face grow hot at his words wondering if Iwaizumi can read your thoughts. “About that…”

“Hm?” Iwaizumi blinks.

“I’m sorry if it came out of nowhere, there was just a lot going on in such a and I just -- It was uncalled for… I didn’t mean--”

Iwaizumi lets out a laugh causing you to pause.

“What?” You suddenly feel stupid for bringing this up, thinking you’ve missed the reason as to what’s so funny.

“Sorry,” he shrugs. “You were just trying to make your ex jealous, right?”

Yes, you were, but there was more to it than that.

“Mm,” you reply, unsure of what else to say.

“Don’t you think Oikawa would have been a better contender to piss Ushijima off?”

“I mean… I think it was more than that,” you begin, but lose your courage to confess anymore as Iwaizumi gazes at you with an unreadable expression. “Cause you know, you’re new and he’s never seen you before and so it’s more…  Mysterious?”

It sounded more like a question as if you were trying to convince yourself too, but Iwaizumi doesn’t ask further.

“Of course,” he replies so a matter of factly, you feel stupid. Like you’re self-sabotaging yourself. 

“I guess it did sort of work seeing as he punched Oikawa,” he adds.

Your face softens at Iwaizumi’s remark in an attempt to lighten the mood.

“I mean, if it really worked he would’ve punched you,” you joke. “Oikawa persuaded Ushijima all on his own.” 

You both laugh and you know, now, that it wasn’t such a bad idea to talk about it.

“Well if you ever need to get Ushijima off your back, I can pretend to be your boyfriend.”

Huh?

You weren’t quite sure if you heard that correctly, seeing how nonchalant he is. And when you don’t reply and continue to gaze at Iwaizumi wide-eyed, he’s quick to reply.

“I mean, if you need one,” he continues.

You laugh nervously. At this point, you’re definitely not sure what he’s thinking about, but the fact he so blatantly offered such an outlandish task, makes you wonder if he’s on the same page as you. Is it so obvious to him, that you think he’s hot, that you enjoy spending time with him?

“I’ll hold you to that,” you say, as calmly as you can, trying to suppress the excitement bursting inside. “When’s your last day?”

“Next week.”

“That sucks,” you spit out. “I mean! It’s cool you get to go to school in California, but just sucks you’re going to be leaving”

“We can still keep in touch,” he replies softly.

“You better,” you tease. “I’m jealous you have it all figured out.”

“You will too.” 

“Doubtful,” you groan. “But I’m trying to stay optimistic.”

“You’ve got lots of time,” he sighs.

Silence encompasses the space between the two of your time limit with Iwaizumi worries you more. You’re happy he gets to pursue his dream, but you wonder if there's more to why you got to see him again. It feels wrong for wishing him to not leave, the essence of selfishness rolls through you as your conscience nags for you to stop.

"I hope so."

------ 

It’s the beginning of a new week and you’ve finished your morning class.

But it's very hard to forget the conversation you had with Iwaizumi about the kiss, about him leaving. As much as you’d like him not to leave, to see where things could go, you know it isn’t your best interest to start dating someone new so. You’re not like Ushijima. You’d much rather die than ever admit that you are the same as him. Luckily, you are not. You have morals and you’re a much, much better person than him. 

Your name rings down the hall as you stroll towards the exit and turn to see Sara trying to catch up to you. You haven’t seen her since the evening Oikawa swung at Ushijima and honestly had been avoiding her since. Though you did know, you’d have to face her eventually, you preferred it being during class where you can gently brush her off.

“How are you, I haven’t seen you since the other night,” she breathes, trying to catch her breath from basically booking it down the hall.

“I’m fine,” you grunt, unapologetic to how cold it sounds, yet Sara pays no mind to it as she continues to beam with excitement.

“I just wanted to apologize.”

“For?” 

“For inviting Ushijima,” she replies, her voice unwavering. “I didn’t find out until later that he’s your ex.”

“Did he tell you?”

“Well, he did that night,” she chuckles, then clears her throat when you raise your eyebrows at her in displeasure. “I was mortified that he didn’t even tell me. I told him who would be there and he didn’t say anything.”

You're quiet, trying to make sense of Sara's explanation. Why is she even telling you this? Is it because you're in a group together? She could have just pretended nothing ever happened and keep things strictly school-related. If this were you, you'd be: 1) pissed your significant other didn't tell you about an ex and 2) would avoid the ex like a plague. Yet here she is, standing in front of you, apologizing. Nothing seemed to add up.

“And you didn’t get mad?” you ask, unable to comprehend Sara's reasons for confronting you.

“Oh my god no, why would I be mad?” she laughs again. 

“I thought you were close?” 

“Close? I guess, but he’s just been showing me around.”

"Huh?" you blink.

“He’s part of a program here, to help new students.”

You blink again.

“Y/N? You there?”

“Yeah…  I just-- you were-- I thought… What’s the program?”

“Um, he's assigned to a new student to help settle in for the first week on campus...”

Your mind flashes back to the other day when Ushijima showed up at your apartment wanting to tell you something, then to the time he tried to chat with you at the restaurant. Was that it? That it's just been a misconception all this time. 

"... One time he showed me around the city, but that's about it," she continues, forcing you out of your thoughts. The keyword showed me around the city rings setting an alarm to when you first saw them together. That day, it felt like your heart got ripped out and thrown on the ground with your entire body submerged in an unfathomable sense of agony. You were destroyed.

“So... you normally just hang out with him at school?” 

“Yeah. He's the only person I know on campus,” she snorts. "That's why I invited him, as thanks. Regardless I feel like a complete idiot. I’m so sorry I invited him, I totally didn’t mean to put you in an awkward situation.”

You feel perplexed and look away, trying to figure out how to take the information. 

Nothing and everything makes sense at once. As if you had stepped into a dream world and your body is separately itself from reality as you trying to mull the information you've just absorbed.  

“Forget it," you say, forcing a smile. "I-- I have to get to class.” 

“Oh, of course. I’ll talk to you later?”

“Yeah,” you smile, walking in the opposite direction. "I'll see you around."

You sigh realizing you misjudged Ushijima entirely. No wonder he wanted to speak to you and all you've been doing is giving him a cold shoulder. Maybe, guilt can describe the feelings swimming in the pit of your stomach, completely blinded by wrath. You had to tell Oikawa-- 

Buzz!

Scooping out your phone from your pocket you check down to see a text from said guy. It says: just finished class. you on campus?

You quickly send a reply then your eyes flicker up to a familiar figure walking towards you.

Iwaizumi.

“What are you doing here?” you say.

“Came to drop off Shittykawa’s books," he replies. "He forgot them for his next class.”

“I can take it to him, I was just headed to meet up with him,” you smile.

“Thanks,” he grumbles, rubbing the back of his neck.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I was kind of hoping to run into you….” 

------

I’ll be in the courtyard.

Oikawa reads a text from you and gives a small smile walking in the direction of the destination. Your company is always something he admires especially to kill time between classes. But it was never killing time with you. Instead, it seemed to always go by too fast, like he never had enough of you. His heart starts to race as he nears the courtyard and he doesn’t know why but he’s feeling extra giddy today. Perhaps he woke up in a good mood or perhaps it feels like for once he’s getting somewhere with you by the fact you’ve opened up to him and have been a lot friendlier than usual. 

Then he sees you. You’re easy to spot. And he starts to talk a tad quicker, but as you become more in view, he sees you talking to Iwaizumi. His entire body freezes.

------

“I was hoping to spend my last day… With you,” Iwaizumi mumbles. “Oikawa has class during the day and I wanted to see if I could snag you.”

Oh. 

Your eyes widen with surprise and excitement as the words echo in your head.

“If you’re available that is,” Iwaizumi quickly adds.

You grin at him. “Yeah, of course. I’d like that!”

“Awesome, I look forward to it,” he says casually before turning around to leave. 

“Iwaizumi…”

He stops and turns back to you.

“The books?” 

“Oh right, I totally--”

He rushes back over to hand them over, yet the books gently graze your finger and fall to the ground. Both of you react by swooping down to pick them up and from your eagerness accidentally bumps your forehead into Iwaizumi, making loud bonk.

“Oh my god are you ok?” you ask while holding your forehead from the surprise collision.

“Yes, are you ok?” he chuckles while rendering a small smile.

“Yeah,” you giggle. “Sorry I got excited.”

Your face feels hot from how close he is and his contagious laugh. It’s nice and feels... exhilarating. Unlike anything, you’ve felt before from someone. 

Suddenly your moment is interrupted by the sound of your phone going off. 

It’s your mom.

[benhardypout-archive]

016. fever

a/n:  another chapter from my Wonty “comfort fics “Dirty Little Secret”. As I mentioned from the previous chapter I posted few days ago, I’m just going to post some chapters which I enjoyed writing. So the number is the chapter of this fic, and this is the chapter 16, hence, 016. Enjoy reading! 🙈

Monty didn't sit next to me on our third. But if I'd be honest, I'm still salty about yesterday. I know I'm not in the place to do so…

Maybe I'm just hoping that somehow he cared about me since that's what he's starting to make me feel, and not let me hope for nothing.

Just because he apologized, and agreed to meet you in your place tomorrow, you thought he cared.

Ugh! whatever.

So when I caught him staring as I ate with Charlie that lunch, maybe I had been extra chatty towards the latter.

Yes, he joined me at lunch again, and with Alex this time. Unfortunately, Charlie just made himself look awkward. He obviously didn't know how to make a conversation with Alex, so he talked to me instead, which became favorable for me. Apparently, Alex got the wrong idea and thought that Charlie was hitting on me.

Oh, if only he knew.

I exchanged numbers with him since he asked for it, only to  bombard me with questions about Alex. I told him that I'm not some slam book or Alex's diary who's carrying all the information he wanted to know about him, so he should be the one making a move towards the guy himself. But he pleaded, for me to help him out at least, and enlighten him some basic things about my friend- he's been using the word to persuade me- like his favourite food, movie, color, hobbies and such, which I realized I didn't really have ample knowledge about. Though, I still promised to help him in any way I can, as a kindred spirit I am. Then I just learned that my friend and Zach wasn't like a real thing yet, but they have a thing. Well, relationships could be complicated.

And that's it, that's all I know about my 'so-called friend'.

So, I deemed it safe for Charlie to take his chances and make a move on Alex. Even giving him words of encouragement to do so. Go, Charlie!

By afternoon after class, since the Football practice had been cancelled due to Coach Kerba's absence, I spent it at Monet's, attempting to do some homework. I didn't ask Estella to come. I wanted to be alone with my thoughts for a while.

"Is this seat taken?"

I froze knowing the voice so well.

What's he doing here?

Looking up, I had to blink a few and asked myself if I'm dreaming. Then I glanced around before I nodded and let him sit with me, taking the seat in front of me.

We were quiet at first, me flipping through my notes. Pretending rather, as I found it hard to concentrate anymore with him around.

I cleared my throat and asked where Estella was. I wanted to reason that he couldn't come here all by himself, so he should be at least with his sister, but decided against it. He said she's having a night out with some friends.

I just hoped it's true and she's not with that guy, Gavin, somewhere. Perhaps, I'm starting to be protective of her too, and I caught myself sending a quick text to her asking where she was.

She replied: With Gavin.

I knew it.

I told her to be careful and to call me if she needed some help or just anything.

I turned back to Monty and asked him in a hushed tone, "What are you doing here?"

He let out a smirk and said, "What do you think?"

I looked  around, even though it's obvious that students from Liberty were everywhere in this little coffee shop. "I think we're not supposed to be here together."

He moved towards, resting his elbows on the table, his face quite dangerously close to mine and whispered, "We're working on a project." He held my gaze and gave a ghostly smirk, before leaning back to his chair. We were silent for a second as he lightly tapped his fingers on the table. Clearing his throat, he said, "By the way, I… apologized to Tyler."

Blinking, I looked at him in disbelief. Smile then stretched out my lips. I wanted to ask why, though I didn't want to sound like I doubt his sincerity. I wanted to believe he's wanting to change.

Then I caught Ani with Jessica from afar glancing our way.

I casually moved my gaze back to Monty. And focused down my homework. "People are looking," I whispered.

"Let them look," he said.

He, mayhap, asked me about Charlie's deal with me as he began pulling his own homework, suggesting for us to work together.

I said nothing. And changed the topic to where we are now… in my house.

We only had the place to ourselves. Our maid was out shopping for groceries, so it may take a while before she could come back.

We're settled in the living, flopped down on the couch.…watching some movies on Netflix. A bowl of popcorn between us. We both pretended to pay attention to the movie, when my hand, as I blindly grabbed a handful of popcorn, accidentally collided with Monty's, whose hands were already dipped in the bowl.

I stopped and turned to him. His gaze on me.

"Sorry," I pulled my hand away.

He sighed, taking his empty hands off the bowl, and shifted closer to me, enough to make my heart skip.

I just focused my eyes back on the show. It's a movie from the 80's, entertaining enough. Although, I know I would appreciate it more, but not with Monty around who had completely stolen my interest.

"Seriously, what's your deal with Charlie?" I heard him say.

I sat back, suppressing a smile. I couldn't believe he's not done with that talk yet. So he really wanted to know.

I turned to him, making sure I looked innocent. "I told you. None."

"Then why does he keep clinging to you?"

Clinging?

I looked away and decided to chew on some popcorn since I couldn't hold my smile anymore. Thanks, popcorn.

"Maybe he's just trying to be friendly," I reasoned after swallowing the popcorn down. Then I shifted, turning my body his way. "I think I should be the one asking you why your friend keeps on hanging around us."

He moved his eyes to me from the TV and I swear, I could stare at him all day, and wouldn't be tired. I began counting the freckles that scattered around his face.

"We're not really that kind of friends," he said. Then he snatched the bowl of popcorn from my hands to his lap.

I frowned. "Hey--"

"Trying to be friendly, eh?" he scoffed and shoved a handful of popcorn into his mouth and added, "Why don't I believe you?"

I grimaced. Couldn't believe he would show me his unethical side.

"Didn't your parents teach you not to speak when your mouth's full?"

It's too late when I realized what I said. I know his deal with his parents. Fuck you, Winston.

But then he smiled, and playfully threw a popcorn to my forehead.

Frowning, I touched where the popcorn hits. Okay, I think I deserved that.

"Why don't I believe you?" he said, but he's still smiling. It took me a second to realize that he just repeated what he said; maybe he thought I didn't understand him after speaking with his mouth full.

I decided to play dumb. "What do you mean?"

He just ignored me and continued on his rambling.

"Really, why?" This time he looked serious and held my gaze. "He isn't like…" he trailed off and moved his eyes to the side, looking away, "... trying to hit on you, right?" With reluctance, he moved his eyes back to me.

Hiding a smile, I turned to face the TV. "And… what if he does?... I mean, Charlie can be cute."

He scoffed, a loud one at that. I felt him shift, but I kept still, trying to make sense of the movie and failing.

"So you like him."

My skin jumped, feeling his breath close to my neck, his voice soft but clear against my ear.

I glimpsed at him, he's a little close with me, but still keeping a safe space between us. However, for me, it's dangerous.

I swallowed. "...I don't."

He scoffed again. "Oh yeah? Is that why you find him cute?"

"Just because I find him cute doesn't mean I like him. Give me back the popcorn."

"No, you get it yourself."

"Tell me why does it seem a big deal to you?" I turned to him, forgetting for a second how close he was, and now we're practically face to face. I held my breath, and froze in my place.

None of us moved. Our eyes silently travelled down to our face with our hitched breaths and racing hearts.

Damn. I wanted to kiss him. So. Fucking. Bad.

But I'm surprised how I'm still able to control myself; maybe it's the fear he'd punch me again.

Though, my mouth started to feel dry.

"Kiss me," he whispered against my lips, causing my heart to beat even faster as if it's possible.

My throat moved as I looked down his lips.

Slowly, I inched towards him, closing my eyes, until his dry trembling ones brushed against mine. I'm glad I wasn't the only one who's trembling. I didn't make a move and just teased our lips together, but that simple contact already caused us to inhale sharply. So we had to break off, when I felt him grab the back of my neck and pulled me back, crashing his chapped lips on mine.

He took in a deep breath, and stayed just like that, unsure what to do next. So I decided to take the lead.

Sliding my hands between us, I reached for his chin, opening our mouths, so I could have more access.

His breath hitched, making me smile, as I grazed my tongue, licking the dryness of his lips before I slid it in and explored his mouth. He inhaled once more and quivered against me. His hands were tight on my sides but I loved how he's holding me.

"Relax," I whispered as I continued drowning him with my fiery kisses. He softened and I gave him time to adjust until he's able to catch up with my kisses.

I inhaled, feeling his tongue poking against mine. Soon we're kissing like mad. Our breaths sharp with every stroke of our hungry lips. His hands grabbing my hair and my arms tight around his neck. Our bodies glued together, feeling the heat. We kissed as if our lives depended on it.

I moved my hips wanting to feel him and we tensed feeling how hard we were. He pressed his body more to mine as if it was possible, and felt him move, his hardness rubbing against my thigh, causing me to draw a breathless moan and suck on his lower lip. Our kisses became harder. Hungrier. Intense. And I'd never kissed anyone like this before.

I never knew he could be this passionate and I'm all here for it.

We only stopped to catch our breaths, but he soon collided his lips back to mine, and his kisses became slower but just as ardently.

I could feel myself wanting more, feeling him getting harder as he continued riding my thigh. I didn't notice that he already got me pinned under him, with my back on the couch.

The movie still played in the background as we continued kissing and grinding each other desperately.

"I want you…" he said, breathlessly, between feverish kisses; making me melt but even harder. Is that possible?

"Come on," I pushed him gently, and stood up. And impatiently led him to my bed room.

It only hit me that we were making out boldly in the living room. I'm just relieved our maid hasn't come back yet, or I didn't know what I'd do if she caught us screwing here. Though, the idea seemed thrilling.

We didn't waste any time and kissed as soon as we got to my room. I just managed to push the door. I didn't know if I was able to lock it. I didn't really care.

He shoved me on the bed, and crawled on top of me. I smiled and pulled him down as I brushed my tongue sensually against his parted lips. He smiled, kissing me before he sat up and yanked his top off. Then we began to help each other be free of our clothes; hands fumbled against the fabrics. We gasped as raging teenagers we are, whenever our heated skins made contact. And, I loved it. Loved the feel of his warmth and his weight over me, and how hard he was against my thigh, sending delicious shivers down my body.

Feeling suddenly bold,  I reached for his ass. And gave it a meaningful squeeze, earning a moan from him. The sound he made, did things to me. And I'm even more eager to hear them again.

We continued to fool around the bed, moaning and breathing each other's names like a song as the height of pleasure rose within us.

[higuchimon]

[fanfic] An Afternoon In The Snow

Manjoume didn't look outside. He knew what he'd see out there if he did and he'd seen it once already that morning and he felt no need to look again. It would have only gotten worse in the past four or five hours. Besides, it was just snow. He knew what snow looked like. Everyone did. It was white and thick and messy and got over everything and in the way and sometimes it got dirty and he would be very, very glad if he never saw it again as long as he lived.

Especially when he had something far better to look at - his deck. He had all of the cards set out neatly and carefully, sorted into spells, traps, and monsters. He'd tucked all of the Ojama cards out of the way. They would always be a part of his deck, whether he liked it or not - and he absolutely didn't and if anyone had ever suggested he take them out, then he would take them out, as noisily and quickly as he possibly could. But he wanted to revise the rest of his deck and make sure it was up to his standards.

"Hey, boss!" Ojama Yellow caroled from wherever it was. "Your boyfriend's coming!"

Manjoume's shoulders stiffened at once. If someone had been looking at him, they might well have noticed a faint dusting of a blush over his cheeks for a few seconds before he jerked up. "He's not my boyfriend!" He and Fubuki weren't dating! They just - went out together a lot, to eat and to go to movies and concerts and sometimes really awesome duels, and sure, they'd kissed about thirty or forty times, and done quite a bit more than kissing, but that didn't mean they were dating!

Sure, he growled to himself. And if he told himself that often enough, then maybe he'd actually believe it one of these days. Somehow or other, he'd ended up dating the brother of the girl he had a crush on in high school. Someone somewhere was probably getting a really good laugh out of this. Well, if they were, at least they weren't laughing where he could hear them. He'd settle for that.

The door swung open and he could feel the faintest hint of a cold breeze touch the back of his neck. He packed up his cards and slid the deck back into place. He'd never get anything done with Fubuki there. At least not anything card related. He might end up doing other things, of course. Fubuki had a way of persuading him.  Even if he hadn't, Manjoume knew himself well enough to know he might very well bring the subject up himself.

"There you are!" Fubuki didn't quite pounce on him but he didn't not pounce on him either, wrapping his arms around Manjoume without fear of being bitten by his coat, and snuggling into his neck before he dropped a quick kiss on the tip of Manjoume's nose. "Are you busy?"

That was an improvement. Normally Fubuki just wandered in and pulled him off on whatever madcap adventure he had in mind. Sometimes he'd ask what Manjoume was doing before pulling him away from it. So perhaps Fubuki was actually maturing?

Probably not. Manjoume would rather believe Fubuki just wanted to know how much of a fight he'd put up before being pulled away. He shrugged for the moment.

"Nothing I can't stop for right now. What do you want to do?" They hadn't had any particular plans for tonight. Manjoume had even thought Fubuki wouldn't come over, given the weather. But now his boyfriend cheerfully brushed snow off of his shoulders and shot Manjoume a very mischievous look.

"Let's go out."

Oh, that look didn't bode well. At least not in the sense of having a peaceful evening at home preparing for when the next season of the Pro Leagues got started. But sometimes Manjoume did like a little time away. It often seemed to clear his mind and he fought better, especially when he could hear Fubuki's clear and bright voice singing his praises from the audience.

He eyed Fubuki carefully. "What do you have in mind?" He wanted to know before he made up his mind on if he would be stubborn or not today.

"Let's go for a walk!" Fubuki wrapped his gloved hands around Manjoume's wrists and started to tug him to his feet. Manjoume wriggled back; he wasn't ready to haul stakes just yet.

"It's snowing. It's cold out there," Manjoume pointed out. He'd set up his office in here so he didn't have to look outside and see the snow packed practically to his knee if he didn't have to. Why on Earth would he want to go out in it? Let it all melt and he'd be thrilled to step outside. Not until then.

Fubuki blinked at him, shaggy head tilted to one side. "I know!  I've been out in it all morning. It's beautiful out there! The clouds are clearing up." He tapped a finger on the side of his face. "You might want some sunglasses, though. Don't want you to go snow-blind!"

Manjoume shook his head. "Not going anywhere. Talk to me when the snow's not there. Want some hot chocolate?" Surely that would distract Fubuki from this insistence on going out in the snow.

Fubuki's eyes lit up and he opened his mouth for a second before shutting it and shaking his head. "I'll make you a deal," he said, his eyes sharpening. "First we go out for a long walk. Then when we get back, we'll have hot chocolate and cuddle in front of your fire." He nodded at the electric fireplace, before he smiled at Manjoume. That sweet, sweet smile that struck right into Manjoume's heart, teasing him to do whatever it was Fubuki had in mind.

Walking in the snow would be cold and annoying. The Ojamas would be a pain, insisting on following them everywhere. He'd probably slip and fall. But - Fubuki would catch him if he did. Fubuki always did. Fubuki would be there for him, and Fubuki would hold him afterwards.

It might be worth the trouble, now that he thought about it.

"All right," he relented. "One long walk. Then right back here." He wasn't going to let Fubuki get away with turning this into some kind of wild adventure that would end up with his hair soaked in snow and dirt and rocks and who knew what else.

Not that Fubuki wouldn't figure a way to do that if that was what he wanted, but Manjoume just wouldn't let him get away with it. Or so he rather fondly told himself.

"All right!" Fubuki tugged on him again and this time Manjoume got to his feet. "Get your coat on! And earmuffs! And something for your eyes! And your boots!"

Manjoume rolled his eyes, leaned over for a brief touch of his lips to Fubuki's, and stepped away. "I know how to dress for the cold. And I don't need all of that." His time in North School had been brief, all things considered, but some things stayed with you no matter what. A coat and boots would do nicely - and maybe something for his eyes. Other than that, he'd be fine.

As soon he stepped into the bedroom, the Ojamas popped up around him, chattering happily to one another. He hated to admit it, but they liked Fubuki, and tended to be even happier when the two of them went out together. Manjoume had expected this.

"All right, runts," he snapped as he searched in his closet. "Keep quiet while we're out. This is supposed to be just me and him."

"But-" Ojama Yellow waved tiny gremlin hands around. "You-"

Manjoume cut whatever the spirit had in mind off with a snap of his head. "You can chatter later. If you're going to come along," and they would, he couldn't get away from them, "at least be quiet and don't interrupt."

The three of them nodded, though he didn't believe for a second they'd listen to him. He knew them too well by now. He settled his coat around himself and made sure his boots were tightly fastened before he headed back. He wouldn't have been surprised to find the idea of walking out had already vanished out of Fubuki's head. While Fubuki could be flighty, when he really wanted something, he stuck with it. It seemed he really wanted this walk, since he fidgeted not too far from the door, waiting eagerly for Manjoume to get back.

"Let's go!" Fubuki chirped the moment Manjoume stepped out of the bedroom. He didn't wait until they were out before he slid his hand around Manjoume's and squeezed it lightly. Manjoume returned it with a small smile. Sometimes Fubuki could get on his nerves, but more often than not, he found it all worth it.

Hand in hand, they stepped outside, and Manjoume wondered if just a quick walk around the block would work. Not when it was Fubuki, he knew. He would want a full walk, and probably would sneak a snowball fight or some ice skating in there too. As far as Manjoume knew there weren't any places to ice skate in his neighborhood but that didn't mean Fubuki wouldn't figure out something if that was what he wanted to do.

He kept his attention on where he set his feet as they walked along, not wanting to take the chance on slipping and falling, even if that might mean ending up in Fubuki's arms. He could do that perfectly well without making an idiot of himself. The snow piled thick everywhere, shimmering mounds of white that came up sometimes to his ankles or mid-thigh and in one or two rare spots a bit higher. He could see streaks of blue sky as the clouds cleared away slowly, and shafts of golden sunlight slid down to send crystalline sparkles racing over the snow.

Fubuki sighed one of his most melodramatic sighs, admiring all of the beauty all around him. Manjoume had seen that expression many times before, usually when they went to the beach or when he'd pulled off an especially impressive play in a duel. He smiled one of his most brilliant smiles, dropping Manjoume's hand so he could spin around gracefully.

"This is gorgeous! We should have done this long ago!" A light laugh trilled from his lips. "Too bad we had to wait for it to snow!"

Manjoume wanted to point out they could go for a walk anytime - just being with Fubuki would make it special enough for him. Before the words could shape themselves, Fubuki sent a smoldering glance his way and stepped back, arms spread wide, and looked about ready to say something, when his foot caught on a tuft of dead grass hidden underneath the snow. He stumbled and Manjoume moved without thinking, darting forward to wrap one arm around Fubuki's waist, catching him before he could hit the snow.

For a few moments they stayed like that, blinking at one another. Then Manjoume quickly got Fubuki back on his feet and brushed him off. "You all right?"

"I'm fine." Fubuki regarded him, a light smile playing about his lips before he darted in to press them against Manjoume's. Manjoume knew very well what being kissed by Fubuki was like - sweet and soft and strong and amazing all at once. He leaned into the embrace and returned the kiss, not caring what brought this on. When they finally stepped apart, though only to arm's length, Fubuki grinned at him. "My hero! I hope that was a good enough reward for saving me."

Manjoume's cheeks burnt bright red. He'd known Fubuki properly since he was fifteen and he still had no idea of how just a few easy words could turn him into a blushing mess.

Fubuki's grin deepened. "I don't think it's enough." One finger stroked along Manjoume's chin. "I might have to thank you even better later."

Manjoume drew in a chilled, stuttering breath. "I think - I think we should keep going?" He wasn't sure of what else he could say or do right now. Clearing his head sounded like such a good idea. If he could have plunged his head into one of the nearest snowdrifts to cool his blood right now, then he would have gladly done so. As it was, he thought about finding somewhere to get a good drink. Hot chocolate might be the most traditional right now, or some green or ginger tea. He'd also developed a taste for amazake. There was a particular sweet shop this way that sold some of the best malted rice that he had ever drunk.

I have my card, he mused as they moved along, Fubuki's arm tucked comfortably around him, and he returned the embrace. He knew that Fubuki liked the drink as well.

"Hey," he nudged his boyfriend lightly, getting his attention. "I'm thirsty." Which was and wasn't true. He was, but he wanted the drink for other reasons than that.

"I think there's a vending machine around here somewhere," Fubuki mused, glancing ahead of them to a more populated region of the street. Manjoume shook his head at once.

"I want some amazake."

Fubuki's eyes lit up at the word. "Oh, that does sound great!" He looked around, orienting himself, and then started tugging on Manjoume's arm. "This way!"

Manjoume might have argued, but that was the way that he wanted to go regardless. So he hurried his steps along, if a trifle carefully. They'd have to find somewhere to drink it; in times like this it wasn't likely there would be seats available anywhere near the shop itself. But perhaps he could persuade Fubuki to head back home so they could enjoy themselves in front of an open fire or under a good warm blanket.

Just the thought of either of those set his temperature rising a little more. He strove very hard not to let Fubuki see it. Sometimes he didn't mind, but today was turning out to be different in many ways.

Before they got into sight of the shop, Manjoume could hear the unmistakable sounds of a crowd - shuffling feet, people muttering among themselves, one or two who sounded very annoyed about having to wait, and a great many more. He'd heard that sort of sound several times before. The difference in those sounds and these were that before, those people were lining up to see him. Right now, they were lining up to get hot drinks, and were very annoyed that they weren't getting them fast enough.

He eyed the length of the line and decided that he didn't like it. "Let's try somewhere else," he suggested, trying not to show how annoyed this made him. But Fubuki only grinned.

"We're already here and anywhere else is going to be just as crowded," he pointed out, before he rolled his shoulders and did something that in Manjoume's mind translated to being more noticeable.

This was going to be interesting.

Fubuki strolled forward. Even in a warm jacket and boots concealing his normally flamboyant dress style, he drew every eye just by the way he walked and the cheerful warmth of his smile. He picked out the last person in line who looked likely and smiled at her. By all rights, the smile should have melted a good finger's worth of snow. The young lady blushed just at the sight of him.

"Hi there," he greeted cheerfully. Almost anyone else would have been told to get to the back of the line. That kind of thing never happened to Fubuki. "I was wondering, could my friend and I go ahead of you?"

"I- of course!" The lady moved to one side. "I'm not in any hurry."

Fubuki beckoned to Manjoume, who hurried over to join him. They hadn't stood there for very long before more people stepped aside, apparently just by the sweet way that Fubuki smiled, and one or two of them even were dueling fans, who gladly let Manjoume Thunder get closer to the head of the line. Soon enough they stood there ordering the amazake. He folded his hands around the cup, enjoying the heat, as the two of them stepped away. Manjoume savored the taste of it slowly, taking care not to slip on the ice anywhere, and hoping that Fubuki did the same thing.

"I'm getting hungry," Fubuki declared somewhere in he middle of his drink. "Let's hit up somewhere with some nikujaga."

Manjoume hadn't thought about it before, but now that Fubuki mentioned it, the idea of a hot beef stew appealed to him. But he wasn't sure of where they could get any. He didn't eat out a great deal in this area, preferring to either have his meals made at home or to go out to a slightly larger city when he was in the mood for rarer fare. But Fubuki looked around, sniffed the air a moment or two, then grabbed onto his hand.

"This way! There's a restaurant." He charged forward, ignoring the way the snow and slush crunched under their feet, equally ignoring Manjoume's startled yelp as he had to hurry along. If he weren't used to this, then he might well have lost his footing and gone down hard.

As it was, he just managed to keep himself balanced, until Fubuki whirled around the end of a street and gestured ahead of them. He beamed as if he'd invented the restaurant himself and was responsible for its entire existence.

"The Duelist's Table! I get a discount there."

Manjoume blinked as they moved towards it. He wasn't sure if he wanted to ask why. He thought if he did, Fubuki might tell him. He trusted in Fubuki's faithfulness, but there were things that he just didn't want to know. Maybe he'd find out at some point in the future.

"Come here a lot?" That was all that he asked. He didn't get out here that much. He knew that he probably should, but he'd picked this town to set up his home in because it was far away from where his brothers would want to come and visit. They got along better now than they had when he was a teenager, but that didn't mean he wanted to see them on a regular basis. E-mail and video calls sufficed for him.

"Sure do! They've got some great food." Fubuki tugged him inside and waved a greeting to one of the servers. Enough of the tables inside had people at them that Manjoume could guess the food was good, but there wasn't much of a line at the moment. They'd clearly arrived at a very good time. He found a trashcan for his cup and disposed of it before following Fubuki to where they were seated.

Menus were brought over and he and Fubuki started perusing them. Fubuki didn't for long; he knew what he wanted. Manjoume decided that was a good idea too. While waiting for their order, Manjoume took a look around the restaurant. There were several small tables, seating no more than four for the most part, though he could also see larger tables in other areas. He would guess the restaurant was about half-full at the moment, probably with people seeking warmth or just hungry or both. He thought they qualified for both.

I like it here, he decided, before turning his attention to Fubuki, wanting to ask something about how he'd located this place. The words never quite made it out of his mouth, not when Ojama Yellow, Black, and Green popped into existence right above his head and started exploring the area themselves.

"Oh, wow, this place is nice! Do you think they have anything that we could eat?" That was Yellow, peering over Manjoume's shoulder at the menu.

"We can find out! I smell some good stuff here!" Black. Who hovered almost right away over the food on someone else's table, and Manjoume found himself quite grateful that the spirit couldn't be seen.

"Is that a fireplace?" And of course, Green, who prodded at the fireplace and jerked back, saying a few words that no one else should hear.

Manjoume leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He did not need this, not now. Of course, they wouldn't be Ojamas if they didn't poke themselves in right when he didn't want or need them to. He'd tried. He'd tried so hard over the years to get them to just pop up when he was alone, or at most just with someone like Juudai or Johan, who could see them as well and wouldn't be giving him side-eyes whenever he started muttering to the empty air. Part of him wondered if that was why things had been doomed to failure with Asuka. She'd never been fond of supernatural events, and those happened around him almost as much as they did with Juudai.

Fubuki's hand flicked onto his wrist and Manjoume glanced at him. That cheerful smile warmed him down to his toes. "The Ojamas again?"

Fubuki never gave him strange looks, no matter what happened. Manjoume didn't think he could see spirits - or if he could, he'd never indicated that he could. But he also never seemed to worry whenever the inevitable spirit activity stirred around Manjoume. Sometimes he'd even thought he'd seen a spirit around Fubuki. Never very clear, never certain, but just a vague hint. He had a feeling he knew which one it was, too. But unless he actually saw it, he wasn't going to say anything. He might not even then. Not unless Fubuki mentioned that he'd seen the spirit too.

"Always," he muttered softly. He tried to look around some more. They were spirits; they couldn't do too much except yell. Sometimes they could move small things but he hoped no one would notice around here. The place itself seemed very duel oriented. There were framed articles on the walls about important dueling events, a few of them even signed by relevant duelists. He wondered if he'd sign one of them one day. The tables themselves had duel disk designs on them. It definitely was a place for duelists.

Fubuki's eyes cut to the side. Manjoume followed with his own, wondering if the Ojamas were up to something, then blinked when he saw a spill of black scales. He blinked and shook his head, not certain if he'd actually seen what he thought he did. Then Fubuki murmured, and he just caught the words.

"Reign them in, would you?"

For a heartbeat, Manjoume wondered if he meant him. But before he could shape a single thought, let alone words, the black scales turned out to be Red Eyes Black Chick, who unfurled gleaming wings and shot over to where the Ojamas were poking into someone's dinner. With a swipe of claws and snapping of teeth, all three were herded back over to Manjoume, flying right up against him, and all three babbled incoherently.

"Quiet down," he ordered, pitching his voice low. He knew that most people knew that on occasion he 'talked to the air' - you couldn't be the kind of famous duelist that he was and not get caught on camera conversing with spirits a few times - but he'd rather not do it in public if he could avoid it. "He's not going to hurt you."

At least he didn't think the Chick would. The dragon perched on Fubuki's shoulder, glowering at the Ojamas, who popped off into their cards with undignified squeaks. Manjoume thought they might just stay there all night.

"I didn't know you had one too," Manjoume asked a few minutes later, after their food had arrived and they'd satisfied their first hunger. He approved of coming here; he hadn't had a good beef stew like this in a while. He'd have to come here again if he waned another one.

Red Eyes Black Chick stayed on Fubuki's shoulder the whole time, looking all around but keeping silent and watchful. Manjoume hadn't thought that was what it would be like. But he'd never seen it out of the egg for long before.

"He only just started showing up a few days ago." Fubuki told him. "I wasn't really expecting him." He raised one hand, and the dragon chick tucked his head there so Fubuki could rub behind the ears. Manjoume found himself a little envious; almost everyone else seemed to have such a different relationship with their spirits. Johan considered his family. Juudai - well, Manjoume wasn't even certain of what to call what he had going with Yubel. He heard from Hayato now and then about something his partner had said or done. He didn't hear often from Edo or Fujiwara but on those rare occasions, he did get the impression they were good friends with Bloo-D and Honest respectively. He'd even heard a rumor that Hell Kaiser and one of his Cyber monsters had formed a special bond.

And here was Fubuki, casually scratching a dragon's ears as if that happened every day of the week. And he had - Ojamas. Who were, of course, the aces of his deck, and he'd not trade them for anything no matter what. But they were still Ojamas.

It didn't matter in the end. If any other duelist insulted them, he'd use his Ojamas to pound them into the ground. That was all there was to it.

He started to reach to pay the bill but Fubuki shook his head. "This was my idea," he reminded Manjoume. "So it's all on me."

That was fine; they generally took turns paying whenever they went out anyway. Sometimes Manjoume wondered what Fubuki did to get money. Probably random street duels, since he wasn't a professional duelist and didn't seem to have any other line of work. But he always helped whenever he needed to.

Paid up, the two of them headed out into the cold again. Manjoume handled it better than before, given that he'd had the chance to warm up while they were inside. He glanced around a little, wondering if they should head home, when noise caught his attention. He peered a little farther that way, then started to tug on Fubuki's arm.

"Let's go check that out." It had been a long time since he'd seen a full on winter festival. He'd heard this town had a pretty good one, but he'd never bothered to check it out before. Now that they were out and about, he figured they might as well go see what was going on.

The closer they got to the actual festival, the more he could hear very pleasant music, and scented even more delicious scents that hung in the air. If he hadn't already eaten, then he would have started getting a lot hungrier just from that. He did pick up a small bag of sweets they could share once they were home, tucking it into his pocket after buying it. Another street after that revealed something even more incredible.

Fubuki, ever the artist in so many forms, caught his breath at the sight of a long street of ice sculptures. Perhaps they weren't as large or detailed as some of those that could be seen in larger cities, but as far as he or Manjoume were concerned, these were incredible. He hurried down to stare at each of them in turn, cooing over each ice and snow sculpture. Birds and blossoms, characters from movies or plays, there were many different views to look at here.

"Over here," Manjoume called, peering down another pathway. When Fubuki joined him, his smile shone brighter than ever when he saw what his boyfriend indicated.

Duel Monsters. All of them carved from ice or packed from snow, in loving detail. The two of them walked down that way, naming off some of them as they did. It didn't take much effort to identify each one; some were unmistakable, such as Black Magician, while another required careful examination to be certain if it were meant to be Wolf or Silver Fang. Manjoume still wasn't certain even after they agreed it was probably Silver Fang.

At least the Ojamas didn't pop out to give their opinion. If Red-Eyes Black Chick had a thought on the matter, the dragon said nothing at all.

Manjoume stopped at another sculpture, glanced at it and then at Fubuki, whose smile shone with a warmth equal to that of summer itself. Red-Eyes Black Chick leaned over to sniff at the sculpture, before flicking its tail and dismissing it altogether.

"I'll take a picture," Manjoume offered. "Go stand in front of it." He gestured to Fubuki, who quickly did so, posing with his arms spread wide, as if to embrace the enormous sculpture of Red-Eyes Black Dragon itself. Each scale had been carved with absolute precision, and somehow the artist had managed to involve color as well so it looked like it should, instead of a faded Blue Eyes White Dragon. Manjoume made sure he had the best shot, centered on both Fubuki and the dragon, clicked his phone, and glanced at the time before he put it away. "It's going to be dark soon."

He meant to say that they should head on home and spend the rest of the night cuddled up in front of the fire. Fubuki had other ideas - as he so often did. His boyfriend latched onto him, grinning mischievously.

"We are not going to miss the fireworks! They've got a great show here!"

Manjoume tilted his head. "Fireworks?" He'd seen fireworks plenty of times. But here?

"Fireworks! It's going to be awesome. You don't want to miss them, do you?" Fubuki pouted at him, and if Manjoume had ever had any thoughts of doing so, those thoughts faded away without a trace. Fubuki had that effect on him.

"I guess not." He had a pretty good idea that Fubuki had arranged this just so they'd have a snow-filled date. Starting off with something small and not very time consuming, and now - now... Well, now he didn't think they'd get back any time soon. But if it made Fubuki happy, he was always up for it.

"I didn't think so!" Fubuki dropped a quick kiss on his cheek, ignoring the way a few older people glanced at them, and then hurried Manjoume along until they were out of town and on a small rise that wasn't quite big enough to qualify as a hill. It still gave them a fine view of the evening sky as it slowly darkened, and Manjoume's backside grew damp from siting on the snow-covered grass.

"We could have gotten a blanket or something," he muttered, fidgeting. "This isn't comfortable."

"It'll be fine." Fubuki assured him, wrapping one arm around him without fear of Manjoume's coat. That would always surprise him. Fubuki wasn't nearly as fastidious as some people he could think of, but he always seemed so much more put together than Manjoume himself would ever be. And yet he still happily hugged Manjoume whenever the opportunity presented itself and often when he just thought Manjoume needed a hug. There were people who murmured that Manjoume's coat was either sentient or could bite them and Fubuki would probably just pet it on the sleeve if it did, and go on hugging Manjoume.

For now, though, Manjoume leaned against him, and watched as the first fireworks started to blossom against the sky and the stars. Pop went the fireworks, rising up in columns of shining light to hang there for a few far too brief seconds before they faded away. Every color of the rainbow glowed up there, shaping intricate designs and waterfalls of beauty that Manjoume hadn't seen in person like this in a very long time. There were even a few images of famous Duel Monsters, mirroring the ice sculptures.  He wondered if that had been deliberate or accidental. 

Throughout it all, Fubuki drank in every moment, eyes wide and mouth open, pointing out particular shapes that caught his attention, and squealing when he saw others, grasping Manjoume's arm and pointing as if Manjoume couldn't see it all perfectly well for himself.

Manjoume wasn't the squealing type, nor was he all that fascinated by fireworks, not the way Fubuki was. But he enjoyed how Fubuki enjoyed everything more than anything else. It didn't feel as cold as it had, even with the sun having gone down. The longer he held onto Fubuki's hand, the warmer he felt. Occasional flicks of those deep brown eyes told him Fubuki felt the same warmth.

By the time the fireworks ended, Manjoume had to hold back his yawning. He wasn't doing a very good job of it either. But he tried, especially as Fubuki wrapped a firm steadying arm around him and helped him get home. The entire afternoon and early evening had melted away like snow in the sun. He almost wished that they could do it all over again, just so he could enjoy it for the first time.

But he couldn't, so he settled for enjoying settling on the couch near the fire, removing his jacket and getting into more comfortable nightwear, and curling up next to Fubuki, who provided a steaming cup of hot chocolate for the two of them to share. It took all of his energy to keep his eyes open. It didn't feel as if he should be that tired, but he was.

When he dragged his eyes open again, not wanting to miss a moment of cuddling, he could see the Ojamas perched over the fireplace, staring at a table across the room. He carefully swung his head around that way and wasn't surprised to see Red-Eyes Black Chick curled up there, tail over nose. The Ojamas weren't going to do anything to disturb the other spirit, he knew. They would just have to get used to him. He'd be sticking around a while.

"Let's go to bed," Fubuki murmured, and Manjoume nodded. They'd had an excellent afternoon and the night bid fair to be just as fine, no matter what they did or didn't do. Fubuki helped him to his feet and they headed for the bedroom. Manjoume so looked forward to what the next day would bring. Fubuki brought a breath of fresh air wherever he turned up – no matter how chilly the weather.

And if he were going to be completely honest with himself, he definitely looked forward to what the night would bring.

The End

Notes: I've been working on this for a while and finally got it to a point I was happy with it. Hope you like it!

[butterflies-dragons]

Sansa Stark and The Exile Prince

You're not my homeland anymore So what am I defending now? You were my town, now I'm in exile, seeing you out (...) I'm not your problem anymore So who am I offending now? You were my crown, now I'm in exile, seeing you out

—Exile ~ Taylor Swift feat. Bon Iver (*)

***

At the end of Game of Thrones, the TV Show, Jon Snow is a prince, but he is exiled from his homeland. Sansa fought for Jon's release after Daenerys’ murder, but he was sent to the Night's Watch. 

Then at their farewell, Sansa regrets she was unable to gain Jon’s release, but he comforts her by saying the North will be in good hands under her guidance. 

That’s why the new Taylor Swift’s Folklore song: Exile, featuring Bon Iver, is making all our wounded jonsa hearts bleed again... 

[Let’s cry together while watching this beautiful Exile Jonsa fanvideo...]

Last year, Sansa’s fight for Jon to be released reminded me very much of her pleadings for Ned’s freedom:

The king! Sansa blinked back her tears. Joffrey was the king now, she thought. Her gallant prince would never hurt her father, no matter what he might have done. If she went to him and pleaded for mercy, she was certain he’d listen. He had to listen, he loved her, even the queen said so. Joff would need to punish Father, the lords would expect it, but perhaps he could send him back to Winterfell, or exile him to one of the Free Cities across the narrow sea. It would only have to be for a few years. By then she and Joffrey would be married. Once she was queen, she could persuade Joff to bring Father back and grant him a pardon.

—A Game of Thrones - Sansa IV

GRRM has said that the major players’ endings will be similar in the Books, and yes, he has also called Sansa a major player, so Sansa Stark being Queen of an independent North opens the possibility that she could grant Jon a pardon, so he could go back to Winterfell.

Asoiaf Books are full of exiled characters, especially Targaryen ones, like Maegor, Daemon, Viserys, Daenerys, all of them obsessed to claim the Iron Throne for themselves, and that’s the big difference with Jon Snow and the reason to be hopeful for some kind of pardon, reconciliation and returning home to, at last, enjoy some peaceful time at home, a true Dream of Spring.   

But Sansa Stark has already crossed paths with an Exile Prince. Let’s see: 

Back in AGOT Sansa introduced us to a very particular courtier of the Red Keep: Jalabhar Xho.  

Jalabhar Xho is the exiled Prince of the Red Flower Vale, likely exiled for losing a highly ritualized war as per the tradition of the Summer Isles. Following his exile, Jalabhar came to King's Landing in the Seven Kingdoms to request gold and swords from King Robert I Baratheon to help him regain the Red Flower Vale. Robert always entertained the notion of conquering the Summer Isles, but continuously told Jalabhar and put it off until the next year. Although Robert always put off Jalabhar's request for help, he never firmly declined him, telling him "Next year" instead of "No".

Jalabar Xho has a strong bird imagery that connects him with Sansa, since she is mockingly called a bird of the Summer Isles: 

Flowers of a thousand different sorts bloom in profusion on the Summer Isles, filling the air with their perfume. The trees are heavy with exotic fruits, and a myriad of brightly colored birds flitter through the skies. From their plumage the Summer Islanders make their fabulous feathered cloaks. 

—The World of Ice & Fire

Sandor Clegane stopped suddenly in the middle of a dark and empty field. She had no choice but to stop beside him. "Some septa trained you well. You're like one of those birds from the Summer Isles, aren't you? A pretty little talking bird, repeating all the pretty little words they taught you to recite."

—A Game of Thrones - Sansa II

The denizens of Joffrey's court had striven to outdo each other today. Jalabhar Xho was all in feathers, a plumage so fantastic and extravagant that he seemed like to take flight. 

—A Clash of Kings - Sansa VIII

Sansa is the POV where this Prince of the Summer Isles is most mentioned. Out of the 22 mentions of Jalabar Xho in the Books, 8 of those mentions are in Sansa’s chapters, followed by the 7 mentions of the exile prince in Cercei’s chapters. But what is really curious and very interesting is the fact that most of those mentions are in a romantic context linked with love and weddings:  

Jeyne Poole confessed herself frightened by the look of Jalabhar Xho, an exile prince from the Summer Isles who wore a cape of green and scarlet feathers over skin as dark as night, but when she saw young Lord Beric Dondarrion, with his hair like red gold and his black shield slashed by lightning, she pronounced herself willing to marry him on the instant.

—A Game of Thrones - Sansa II

He was one of the few spectators at Joffrey’s Name Day Tourney:  

Most of the spectators were guardsmen in the gold cloaks of the City Watch or the crimson of House Lannister; of lords and ladies there were but a paltry few, the handful that remained at court. Grey-faced Lord Gyles Rosby was coughing into a square of pink silk. Lady Tanda was bracketed by her daughters, placid dull Lollys and acid-tongued Falyse. Ebon-skinned Jalabhar Xho was an exile who had no other refuge, Lady Ermesande a babe seated on her wet nurse's lap. The talk was she would soon be wed to one of the queen's cousins, so the Lannisters might claim her lands.

—A Clash of Kings - Sansa I

Jalabar Xho was present at Sansa’s wedding with Tyrion Lanniters, he said something to her in the Summer Tongue while they danced together:

Merry Crane took the floor with the exile prince Jalabhar Xho, gorgeous in his feathered finery. 

(...)

The music spun them apart before Sansa could think of a reply. It was Mace Tyrell opposite her, red-faced and sweaty, and then Lord Merryweather, and then Prince Tommen. "I want to be married too," said the plump little princeling, who was all of nine. "I'm taller than my uncle!"

"I know you are," said Sansa, before the partners changed again. Ser Kevan told her she was beautiful, Jalabhar Xho said something she did not understand in the Summer Tongue, and Lord Redwyne wished her many fat children and long years of joy. 

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa III 

[Here you can find a fanart of Sansa and Jalabar Xho dancing together]

Jalabar Xho and Sansa met again during The Purple Wedding and they talked about the Wedding Customs of the Summer Isles:

Tyrion led Sansa around the yard, to perform the necessary courtesies.

She is good at this, he thought, as he watched her tell Lord Gyles that his cough was sounding better, compliment Elinor Tyrell on her gown, and question Jalabhar Xho about wedding customs in the Summer Isles. His cousin Ser Lancel had been brought down by Ser Kevan, the first time he'd left his sickbed since the battle. He looks ghastly. Lancel's hair had turned white and brittle, and he was thin as a stick. Without his father beside him holding him up, he would surely have collapsed. Yet when Sansa praised his valor and said how good it was to see him getting strong again, both Lancel and Ser Kevan beamed. She would have made Joffrey a good queen and a better wife if he'd had the sense to love her. He wondered if his nephew was capable of loving anyone.

—A Storm of Swords - Tyrion VIII

The last we know about this particular character is that he is falsely accused by the Blue Bard to be one of Queen Margaery’s lovers and Cersei would be willing to send him to the Night’s Watch if he confesses:  

Behind Margaery came a long tail of courtiers, guards, and servants, many of them laden with baskets of fresh flowers. Each of her cousins had an admirer in thrall; the gangly squire Alyn Ambrose rode with Elinor, to whom he was betrothed, Ser Tallad with shy Alla, one-armed Mark Mullendore with Megga, plump and laughing. The Redwyne twins were escorting two of Margaery's other ladies, Meredyth Crane and Janna Fossoway. The women all wore flowers in their hair. Jalabhar Xho had attached himself to the party too, as had Ser Lambert Turnberry with his eye patch, and the handsome singer known as the Blue Bard.

—A Feast for Crows - Cersei VI

"I prefer this song to the other." Leave the great lords out of it, that was for the best. The others, though . . . Ser Tallad had been a hedge knight, Jalabhar Xho was an exile and a beggar, Clifton was the only one of the little queen's guardsman. And Osney is the plum that makes the pudding. "I know you feel better for having told the truth. You will want to remember that when Margaery comes to trial. If you were to start lying again . . .

(...)

Alone, the Blue Bard's confession would never suffice. Singers lied for their living, after all. Alla Tyrell would be of great help, if Taena could deliver her. "Ser Osney shall confess as well. The others must be made to understand that only through confession can they earn the king's forgiveness, and the Wall." Jalabhar Xho would find the truth attractive. About the rest she was less certain, but Qyburn was persuasive . . .

—A Feast for Crows - Cersei IX

Does the Exile Prince Jalabhar Xho reminds you of someone? Maybe of another Prince, that will probably be exiled from his homeland after some succession dispute, that is surrounded by bird imagery because he wears a black cloak, that is called ‘crow’ and knows an actual crow that repeats everything it hears, that is linked with Sansa Stark, that once imagined himself dancing with a creature that talked to him in a foreign tongue, and that once organized a foreign custom wedding of a Lady with whom he once danced? Do I need to say it? 

Damn it, George! What are you doing?

(*) This post was written while listening Exile over and over and over again...     

[aion-rsa]

How John Krasinski Convinced Emily Blunt to Do A Quiet Place Part II

https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

Emily Blunt was in a different place three years ago. That, of course, applies to most people. But back then, in the lush jungles of Hawaii and filming opposite Dwayne Johnson, she was a million miles from the hushed hell endured by the Abbott family in A Quiet Place, which was just becoming the surprise horror hit of 2018. She had no intention of going back.

The sentiment is understandable. In fact, it was initially shared by her husband, writer-director-actor John Krasinski, who, like his wife, was skeptical about the prospect of making a follow-up, even in our modern era of shared universes. But as Blunt told us when we sat down a year (and lifetime) ago in New York’s Dolby SoHo, once Krasinski gets a new idea, it’s the damnedest thing.

“I was the one who was even more steadfast about not coming back,” Blunt says. “There was that feeling of wanting to preserve the first one.” In the early days of the earlier film’s success, she said no, and Krasinski told Paramount Pictures to court other writers… and yet, that kernel of a vision persisted for Krasinski. One which he couldn’t shake until the day he shared it with Blunt.

“I remember him pitching me the opening,” she says. “And I was like, ‘Cool, I’m not going to be in the movie.’ And he was like, ‘Oh no, I know that.’” He then revealed the first scene is a flashback of the Abbott family before the events of A Quiet Place, enjoying a greater moment of peace than we’ve ever seen with them. The monsters then descend. Afterward, Blunt could only concede, “So I’m going to be in the movie.”

Titled A Quiet Place Part II—Blunt’s suggestion, since it feels as much like the next chapter as a standalone—the new film begins in earnest mere hours after the events of the last movie. Lee Abbott (Krasinski) is dead, and his family is left to wander the wilderness after strange aliens who lack sight (but have horrifyingly adept hearing) eviscerated their farm. Alone in the world, matriarch Evelyn (Blunt) has a newborn – who they must keep quiet at all times – in her arms and two young children to protect. But the oldest of them, Regan (Millicent Simmonds), has never been one to follow her parents’ path.

The idea that possessed Krasinski, to the point where, on a Hawaiian beach he persuaded Blunt to return, was always about Simmonds’s Regan: a resilient young woman who, like the actor portraying her, is hearing impaired.

“The first one is about the promise you make as a parent, that if you stick with me, I can keep you safe forever,” Kransinski says. “That’s a promise that I think all parents know will be broken. I realized when that promise is broken, that’s what growing up is… So if the first one is a love letter to my kids, then this is a weird letter to my kids about the dream that I have for them. I hope they’re this positive, I hope they’re this courageous, and they can go into the dark and light a candle.”

That image of a candle in the dark, and Regan becoming as brave (and stubborn) as her old man, is what gnawed at Krasinski.

“Undeniable” is how Blunt describes it. “I think it crept up on him. I think once an idea is that good, it clings to you and it’s very hard to shake.”

The approach also allowed Krasinski to more fully explore the totality of what the Abbotts lost. For instance, that first flashback scene he pitched to Blunt is partially an excuse to have Lee appear again in the movie, but it also underscores the feeling of an idyllic past life robbed by a global tragedy. Opening on a baseball field, the family watches Marcus (Noah Jupe) play Little League, and the viewer immediately senses paradise will soon be lost.

“In the opening of the movie, there’re even visuals that I wanted to feel like the sense [you get from] Jaws,” Krasinski says. “Being on the beach [is like] when we’re at the baseball game. Storytelling-wise, what I learned from it is simplicity.”

When we spoke to the pair, as well as with other members of the A Quiet Place Part II cast, it was early March 2020. The full reality of the pandemic had yet to set in, but by virtue of no one shaking hands during the interviews, the significance of the real-life horror was already inescapable. Perhaps, then, the movie’s delayed theatrical release to May 2021 is serendipitous, as Krasinski’s vision for the future is both humanist and optimistic, in spite of its dystopia. Cillian Murphy, who plays an enigmatic stranger who crosses the Abbotts’ path, certainly thinks so.

“The film does delicately explore those themes,” Murphy says. “But these kinds of things have been happening since time immemorial. How do societies react to crises? How do individuals react? Do they retreat or do you offer a hand? I think with my character, he starts at one place in the movie and he ends up at another place without it being heavy-handed or didactic. I think the subtext exists.”

Blunt would agree with the sentiment.

“I find this a terribly human film,” she contends. “Yes, the creatures are awful and terrifying… but they’re there to offer a backdrop for how humanity withstands. So that’s what I adore about it. You see a fractured community, you see what is shutdown, but then you see the rebirth and the awakening. Ultimately, human beings want to feel a sense of togetherness.”

Hopefully that includes in the dark of a movie theater.

A Quiet Place Part II opens in theaters on May 28.

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The post How John Krasinski Convinced Emily Blunt to Do A Quiet Place Part II appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[kyndaris]

The Seed of an Idea

This is a story that I would have very much liked to have become a video game. If only I had the ability to code and create logic algorithms and also had artistic skills. Alas, I fear that without the aid of others, The Monsters Beneath Our Beds must remain a narrative rattling inside my head.

By the time this post is scheduled to go up, most of the story of the story will already be up on my FictionPress or thereabouts. It was only intended to be quite short: a children’s chapter book at best. 

https://www.fictionpress.com/s/3350488/1/The-Monsters-Beneath-Our-Beds

And just to tantalise my blog readers, here’s a brief excerpt to enjoy.

The Monsters Beneath Our Beds

i. Explanations

Everyone knows that when the sun goes down, the veil between worlds is thinned. With the darkness serving as their cover, the monsters come crawling. From beneath our beds to stepping out of closet doors. By breaching into our world, they changed familiar objects into horrible things from our worst nightmares. A tree branch becomes a hand, reaching out to grab you. The cat next door turns into a ferocious tiger.

It’s scary and frightening.

But worse of all is the fact that the monsters love the taste of naughty children. The ones that don’t listen. The ones that refused to do their homework and are always in front of the TV playing silly video games like The Legend of Zelda. At least, that’s what mum always said.

The only way not to get eaten is to have a night light plugged in and ensure that no hands or feet are dangling over the side of the bed.

Tucked tightly under the covers, I kept my eyes screwed shut with the pillow covering my ears. The monsters always came just before I managed to fall asleep. Right when I was on the cusp of the world of dreams. They were big and nasty and they stank a lot, too. More often than not, they would stomp around my room, looking for something to eat. Like dogs, they tried to sniff me out. When they couldn’t, because of my expertise at keeping myself hidden, they would let out a loud roar before they crossed back through the portal underneath my bed. Thwarted, once again.

Unfortunately, Teddy wasn’t so lucky last Tuesday. He fell onto the floor when Mandy curled up next to me that night. Too late, I realised that he was out in the open. Before I could reach out to grab him, the monsters came and spotted him immediately. It took everything that I had not to gasp out in dismay – lest they find me too. And as quick as a flash, they gobbled him up.

No more Teddy.

For two days, I mourned the loss of my friend. He had been a comfort to me when I was younger. Though he might have been a little torn up around the ears and his overalls needed a bit of patching, he was still a dear friend. Mandy understood that. And perhaps because of that, she clung to me closer.

Mandy had been my special friend ever since I was really young. We went everywhere together. To school. To the park. Sometimes even to the local library to do some research for my class projects.

Both mum and dad disapproved. It was strange, they said, that I only ever played with Mandy. In their minds, it simply wasn’t right.

“Evelyn, dear, you need to stop playing make believe,” dad had said one time, pulling me aside just before school began. “I know Mandy is important to you. I can see that she makes you happy. But you need some real friends. What about Piper over there? Or the twins? Why don’t you try talking to them and see how everything pans out? Please, Evelyn. For me.”

Torn between wanting to please my parents and scared that I would only get hurt, I agreed to reach out on the first day of school. But Piper had never liked me. Not even when we were in pre-school together. And the twins – Gertrude and Belladonna – were quick to turn up their noses when I tried to introduce them to Teddy and Mandy.

By lunch time, I was sitting in a corner of the library, munching on my soggy sandwich. Mandy, the only one beside me.

In the end, there wasn’t much mum or dad could do. I know that they worried about me, but I never felt lonely with just Mandy and Teddy by my side. In my first year of proper school, mum introduced me to Jester. She was a tiny rabbit doll with a silly hat and a patchwork outfit. And after some persuading from Mandy, I even befriended Nemean, our next-door neighbour’s Pomeranian.

Every afternoon, after I’d finished my homework, Mandy, Teddy and Jester and I would have a picnic and tea in the garden. Sometimes Nemean would join us, but he’d often steal the snacks I had painfully collected instead of sharing it with the rest of us. One time I gave him a smart rap on the nose for being mean and being greedy. That was a mistake. If it hadn’t been for Mandy, Nemean would have bitten me. Hard. Dad would never have allowed me outside if that had happened.

But maybe if I had some ‘proper’ friends, everything would still be all right. If I had only been the good girl that mum and dad had wanted, the monsters wouldn’t have taken them away in order to punish me.

Why else would mum have told me to hide when there were noises downstairs? And why didn’t mum look for me afterwards?

Hiding in my room, I was shaken by the frightening sirens and loud roars. As time dribbled past, I knew that mum and dad had been taken. I wanted to crawl back out from the covers. But to do so meant putting myself in harm’s way. The monsters would take me next.

Fear paralysed me. I couldn’t move.

I was so scared that when my grandma finally found me in the morning, the bedsheets were wet. Grandma didn’t say much as she drew me into her arms. Except only that she had received a call around midnight. And she had come as soon as possible. I could just imagine her leaping out of bed like the heroine from one of the old western movies I used to watch, clambering on a horse and galloping down to our house that was twenty minutes away by car.

It’s been hours since then. Grandma said it was nearly dinner time. But there’s been no sign of mum or dad. Grandma was on the phone for most of the day and she had me bundled up in blankets and seated on the couch, a cup of warm cocoa in my hands.

I took a sip, feeling the warmth of the cocoa spread through me. Even with Jester and Mandy seated beside me, I still felt completely alone. Mum and dad were gone. The monsters had taken them. Yet none of the adults believed me when I told them that the monsters had done it.

If none of the adults were going to do what was needed, then I had to. I set the cup down on the coffee table and rose to my feet.

[redfoxwritesstuff]

Coffee and a Wedding (Chapter 7)

Good morningish. We’re back to our regularly scheduled programming complete with me forgetting it’s post day! As always, thanks to @winterisakiller who puts up with my constant whining and stream of random thoughts.

I’m going to NYC in December for my birthday to see Betrayal, y’all! 

Buy me a Ko-fi

Clint x ofc, warnings: glitter, bad kissing, references to sex.

Chapter 7

“On that note, let the real party begin.” The real party? The whole even reeked of entitlement but I didn’t have anything else planned for the night. I’m sure Matt would be glad to start some dumb rumor if I ducked out early anyway. Regardless, I wanted to get inside soon- the sky was heavy with clouds and I didn’t want to get rained on.  

Matt turned and with all the grandeur his scrawny suit clad frame could gather, pulled open the double doors. Inside was a warmly decorated Whiskey room that looked unremarkable. As I moved inside, I saw more warm redwood than I could have dreamed of. I was a sucker for the warm woods and rustic furnishing, though this was with a much classier touch than my own place.

Mark? Or was it Tim? Whatever his name was, one of the men made his way to the sound system and turned the music on. God, I hoped the music was going to be better than this at the wedding. Bass thumped through the air and it frankly felt like a sin to listen to such trash music in a whiskey room but what did I know? I wasn’t some rich trust fund kid.

A drink was well within my rights. So I wasted no time in ordering a double of whatever they had on the top shelf. I’m not picky but I have class. And dammit, I’ll not be outclassed by a bunch of children. It was bad enough that I was stuck socializing with the kids tonight.  

Alexis had mentioned that Sarah was her older sister. I wondered, as I sipped my drink, how much older than Matt she was. I knew there was only a few years between the two women but Matt acted a lot like a boy freshly turned 21 and less like a man each time I had seen him. The short beard on his face worked well to make his age a question.  

Wouldn’t it be funny if he really was as much of a baby as he acted? His own insecurity would go a long way in explaining his issues with mine and Alexis’ relationship. Our fake relationship. I had to remember that. It wasn’t real. She thought I was just pretending.  

That was going to be a battle for another night. Somehow, I had to make her see I wasn’t playing a game. I wasn’t pretending. She was a light in my life. I just had to somehow convince her to take a chance on this old man. Her reluctance would make sense, I am her boss and a good bit older than her. But man, I would give anything for just a chance.  

Looking around the room again, I noticed there was a lack of board games but I was thankful for it. The idea of drinking expensive whiskey and playing children’s games wasn’t my idea of fun. Maybe sometime next lifetime when I had a family of my own, children of my own but not right now and at a goddamn bachelor's party.  

There was a shift in the music, rather suddenly as I finished my first glass. The base got louder. The beat came to life and at that exact moment, the doors were thrown open by two of the men (boys?) standing near by. I was half amazed to not have the bad luck to be standing next to them at the time. That honor went to another who fell flat on his ass with the power of the blow. I couldn’t help but snicker at the man and his ill fitting suit.  

Half a dozen or so trench coat clad figures, tall and lean were making their way to the door through the empty street. The streetlights reflected off the wet ground as they marched through puddles.  

It was a sight to be seen, their hats perched on their heads, hiding their faces from the streetlights. Rain was coming down, dripping off the rims of hats and splashing up onto calves with each purposeful step. Artfully curled hair bounced on shoulders.

These women were here because they had a job to do and it was very clear that they intended to complete their tasks to the best of their ability. The click of their heels on the pavement seemed to echo over the loud music. Really, that was a figure of the imagination, it couldn’t be heard but with the way they walked, you expected to hear it. I learned a long time ago that it was often intent that mattered.  

I’ve seen women like this before. They were high class and high dollar. There was a time where they were a staple of a Stark Industries party though those days had long passed. Stark had settled down with the woman I was sure would eventually be his wife. I could only begin to imagine how much money was spent hiring these women and how much they would make when their night was through.  

So much for the high class boring event this was billed to be.  

When the women marched into the center of the room, two of the men who seemed to be in the know slammed the door shut behind them with far more force than needed. It was like they were going for ominous and failed to hit the mark with the too bright lights in the taproom and the music being a touch too harsh.  

The women spread out, hips swaying dramatically with each step. There was a stomp of their feet when they hit what I could only assume was their preassigned places. How long did they spend rehearsing this? Every one of their movements were perfectly timed and totally in sync. It was kind of creepy, if I’m honest with you.

They looked around. Right in front of me- I could lean forward, reach and I would be able to touch her coat. This one was a redhead. Curls of bright nearly orange hair bounced as she looked around.  

Her eyes locked on me as the other women selected targets. Each, in perfectly synced motions, hooked the brim of their hat in their fingers and flipped it off the tops of their heads. With practiced skill, they grabbed the hats from midair only to hook them on their target’s heads. Again, it was impressive and made me question just how long they spent practicing this and even more so, how much they were costing per the hour.  

I raised a finger and snagged the brim of the hat intended for my head. “No, Thank you.”  

“Oh Sir, you wound me.” Her voice was sticky like syrup in a way I couldn’t even begin to understand or describe for you. She batted her big and clearly artificially colored green eyes at me and scrunched her lips together in a way that was beyond sexy. “Perhaps, I can persuade you?”  

I watched with mild amusement as the women around the room were flirting with their targets rather than answer her. Typically, if they know you’re not going to bite, they go and other someone else.

The unnamed woman- I’ll call her Orangie- was shuffling even closer to me with her swaying hips. As I looked back, she was undoing the belt holding her coat closed. She was close enough now that the leather was brushing against my knees.  

“Leave that on, won’t you?” It was time for another drink.  

“Oh, do you like to the undressing, Sir?” Swaying her hips, she had the intention of getting between my legs and nope. It was time to stand up and make it very clear that I was moving away.  

“Nope.”

She looked doubtfully at me and questioned, “Not at all?”

“I mean, yes but not you.” I corrected.

She had her belt untied and coat on the ground in a heartbeat. For a second I took in the black lace that hugged her curves and kept what she and many men considered to be the best parts of a women hidden but just barely.  

The men around me were hooting and hollering, each having the time of their lives. Hands were on hips and bodies swaying.  

“Go dance for someone else.” It was hard to make it any clearer for her that I wasn’t interested. Another night, I'd think about it but not tonight. Not right now. Not when I cared for someone.  

Slipping out of my seat, I down the empty glass and went for another. It was going to be a long night. As much as I didn’t want to, I needed to stick it out long enough that Matt and most of his friends wouldn’t remember me leaving.

“Barton!” Jesus fucking Christ, wasn’t Matt busy? “Are none of these girls to your liking? They are young enough.” Don’t punch him. Don’t punch him. Don't fucking punch him.  

“Oh they’re beautiful and seem very talented. Well worth the money spent on them.” That drink wasn’t in my hand fast enough.  

“Than find one. Enjoy your night. It’s my last night as a single man, so let’s party it up.” I’m pretty sure, if I am honest with you- and I’ll be honest with you, that this isn’t going to be the last time Matt parties it up like a single man.  

“I’m just here for the whiskey.” Tipping my glass to Matt, I smile. “Enjoy.” I say before downing the drink.

With that annoyance making his way to a too skinny blonde with breasts that were very fake and judging by the way they moved, very expensive, I went for another drink to sip on and keep my hands busy.

With my back from the room, I nearly jumped out of my skin when long soft hands slipped down by back and around my side. Looking down, I found perfectly manicured red tipped fingers running over my abdomen.  

“You’re strong. Fit.” Organgie, of course.  

“I have a girlfriend.”  

She laughed and leaned, pressing her full and seemingly natural breasts against my back to whisper in my ear, “As do most of the men here. It’s a bachelor party, you’re single for the night. Let me show you a good time.”

“Not interested.” I wrangled her hands off of me and she went on her way with a pout. More than likely, she would try again soon. They always tried again, made the rounds until they found someone to accept the attention she was paid to provide.  

Leaning my back against the bar, I tried to figure out how the girls ended up with a sip n’ paint party and the boys ended up in a whiskey room full of strippers. Around me, men gathered around women, sometimes two or three around a single woman. They rocked their hips, danced and ran their hands up bodies.  

In the back corner, Matt sat with one of the blondes perched on his knee. His hand was inching up her fishnet covered thigh. His other hand was running through bouncing curls as she leaned down. Closer and closer, I watched in disgust as their lips came together in a kiss that looked more like he was trying to eat her face than kiss her.  

If this is what bachelor parties were about, I’m pretty sure I’d rather skip it and just go to a bar with the guys if I ever got my turn.  

Matt struggled to lift the blonde while he stood. Her legs hooked around him as he gripped her ass tightly. So tightly, in fact, that it was clear he was struggling to hold her up and walk. With nothing but disgust, I watched as they disappeared into a cleaning closet. Wonder how much Matt was paying for the full service treatment?

Not that I had anything against hookers. It was the oldest profession in the world and as long as everyone was consenting and sane, more power to them. I never found myself needing of their services but I could see their appeal.

Again, hands ran up my chest. “Go away, Orangie.”

“I want you.” leaning forward, she purred the words into my ear. Glitter from her hair dusted my shirt. Yeah, I’d much rather she didn’t touch me than go back to the room covered in stripper dust. “I won’t even charge. I want you so bad.”  

When she pulled my earlobe into her mouth with a suck, I slipped out from between her and the bar. “Nope. No thank you. Not interested. Bye.”

After downing my glass in a swift motion, I made the most direct path to the door. Was Smith fucking the Asian stripper on the coffee table? Was Smith even that dude’s name? Real classy dude, whatever-your-name-is. At least Matt found a room.  

~~~~~<3

I looked up from my laptop when the room door flung open. Clint looked beyond flustered and his shirt shimmered in the light. Looking at the time on my screen, I saw it was hardly even 11.  

“You’re back early?” Not that I wasn’t happy to see him, I am. I just hadn’t expected him back so soon. “And shinny.”

“Matt is a fucking scumbag. As are most of his friends.” Clint started in on his buttons.

“Okay? How do you mean? And why do you shimmer?”

"I'm a vampire." Clint deadpanned before answering again when I only raised my eyebrow at him, “Stripper dust.”  

I looked at him in confusion. “Stripper dust? How?”

“Well the board games Matt wanted his party to play was ‘pin the stripper with your pecker’. I was lucky to make it out with my life.”

“What are you talking about?” Closing my laptop, I slipped it into that little space between the bed and the nightstand on what was unofficially my spot.

“That party was anything but tame or chaste.” Clint announced, pulling his phone out of his pocket, unlocking it and tossing it onto the bed.

Looking down, I saw a picture of what appeared to be Matt trying to shove the entirety of a scantly clad stripper’s face into his mouth. There were two things that jumped out at me. Firstly, her hair was amazing- I could never get curls and volume like that. Secondly, I was looking at the single most disgusting thing I’ve ever seen. And I’ve cleaned the men’s room at the cafe.  

“Strippers?” Shit. Do I tell Sarah? Is it my place? Fuck. I needed to talk to her.

“Strippers. God, Matt is such a dick. Thinks he’s so grand.” Clint finally got the shimmery shirt off of him and tossed it to the side, little specks of glitter poofing into the air.  

“Did you have a good time at least? I mean- your shirt shimmers so you must have.” I tried to make it sound like I was okay with the idea. I tried to make it sound like the idea of Clint watching a stripper, touching her didn’t make me jealous.

“What?” Clint froze, standing shirtless in our hotel room with his chest on display for me. I couldn’t manage to appreciate it at the moment. “No. God no.”

“Were they that bad?” I tried to joke as Clint ditched his pants and grabbed a pair of sweatpants from the dresser and slipped them on. I did manage to find it in me to admire his ass as he bent over.  

“No, they were beautiful. But I’ve got a fake girlfriend right here to be loyal to.” He didn’t even look at me as he spoke. That was a good thing, if he doesn’t look at me, he can’t see the emotions play across my face.  

“You should have.” I say as if it wasn’t killing me to say it. “It would have been a perfect reason for us to fake breakup. You could have had an easy way out of this fake relationship.” Maybe if I say ‘fake’ enough, I’ll feel like it was fake.  

“Naw, I don’t want to go out like. What if you change your mind or need another fake boyfriend?”

“Change my mind?” What the hell did that mean?  

“Never mind. I’m talking nonsense, too much whiskey.” Clint climbed into the bed next to me as if that’s where he always belonged. Such stupid thoughts. It was too easy to forget that it was all pretend.  

“Babe?” He whispered once he had the light off. I could feel him looking at me in the dark, his breath fanning over my shoulder. I don’t know why he insisted on calling me that when we were alone.  

“What, Clint?” I whispered back.  

“I didn’t touch them. I didn’t dance with them. I didn’t let them dance for me. I told them 'no' and when she wouldn't stop, I left and came back here. You believe me, right?” Why did this matter to him so much?

“Yeah, okay. Yes, Clint, I believe you. Go to sleep, you’re drunk.”  

Rather than answer with words, a soft snore slipped out of my bed mate. I was now the only one left awake in the small room. My mind went wild. It was hard to remind myself, to tell myself and convince myself that he didn’t care about me in that way when he would say those sort of things.  

If I wasn’t careful, I could believe he felt the same way as me. If I wasn’t careful, I could fall deeper in love with someone who was only putting on an act.  

~~~~~<3

It had been two days since the bachelor party of doom as Clint had taken to calling it and I’d spent a lot of the time studying. Sometimes I studied in the room. Sometimes I studied at the beach. But I was always studying.  

Clint had been gracious about it. He’d been more than willing to help me review material as needed. I tired to get him to go out and experience the island without me but he would refuse time and time again. It was nice, to not be studying alone and he made a good study partner. Better than my classmates.

He made sure I took breaks, ate and moved. Most importantly however, he was always willing to help while taking care to never be a distraction. The test I had to take was online and once I finished it, I was officially done for the summer. This one class was all that I had left to finish.  

With a sigh, I closed the laptop lid and picked it up. With a risky flair of dramatics, I tossed the laptop away from me toward the foot of the bed where in bounced.  

“All done?” Clint asked.  

“All done.” I agreed.  

~~~~~<3

Tag List (Coffee): @winterisakiller, @theheartofpenelope, @ruebx, @hufflepuff25, @0-0-0-0-0-0-0-7, @theoneanna, @bradfordbantams, @toozmanykids, @alexakeyloveloki, @j-u-s-t-4, @missaphrodite23, @bambamwolf87, @nonsensicalobsessions, @tinchentitri, @xoxabs88xox, @queenoftheunderdark, @myoxisbroken, @wegingerangelica

[rayonfrozenwings]

Waiting in the Freezing Dark: Chapter 8 - Illyrian Blades

Spoiler Alert: Contains references to ACOFAS.

Authors Note: So it’s been a very long hiatus, because Kingdom of Ash destroyed me and stole all my creative energy. But I have 5 new chapters that I will post soon. :D

A Nessian Fan Fiction: Characters all belong to Sarah J Maas and her book series A Court of Thorns and Roses. This Story takes place after ACOFAS. The story has Multiple POV’s, taking place in the Illyrian camp, Windhaven, Nesta and Cassian are living together at the behest of the high lord and lady of the night court. 

Chapter 8 - Illyrian Blades 

Previous chapters are here: 1, 2, 3, 4 , 5 , 6 7 and Masterlist here.

I have also put this on AO3: Series Link  :)

WC: 2538

Chapter 8 - Illyrian Blades Nesta

Nesta awoke slowly, sleep clinging to the edges of her eyes and assessed her surroundings, her bedroom stared back at her, that voice inside asking her, ‘where else would she be?’ It had become a habit, never sure of what was a dream and what was reality. It was surprisingly comforting to know exactly where you were and that you were safe.

Stretching like a cat in the sun, Nesta rose, grabbed her clothing and headed for the bathroom. She would avoid a bath today, using her washcloth instead, no point in torturing herself if she didn't have to. The small stash of perfumed soap she had acquired in Velaris was lasting well, one of the perks of leading a sedentary lifestyle - she needed ways to avoid being submerged each day and the zesty smelling soap did the trick. At least for now, she had an eternity to figure out how to have a bath.

Ready for the day, Nesta walked into the main room and remembered - he was gone.

The hollowness entered her again.

He was a big dumb bat! She didn’t need to feel this way. Grabbing her bag and book she took off and walked up the winding road Emerie’s.

Nesta had been reading the illyrian history book well into the night and early morning. Surprisingly it was more interesting than she thought it would be. A lot of statements rang false to her ears, but she couldn’t explain why except to say she knew that they were wrong. They say history is written by the victors and it seemed the illyrians won more than they lost, but the ways they won didn't seem to be accurately recorded. Lies fought for freedom, jumping off the page like they had been held against their will. A convenient facet of her power, finding things that didn't want to be found; taking notice of things that didn't want you to take notice, seeing the truth behind a glamour. The history book was captivating and something she would keep looking into and something that she would listen carefully to, find out what the truth really was. Maybe it was just a fantasy novel hidden in between the pages and had no history to it at all.

Female Warriors walked down to the training ring, Nesta eyed them up and down, chin raising in disapproval as she passed - a seemingly late start for them since they were supposed to be training with the males and they started at dawn. She couldn’t help but think that they were wasting an opportunity. One of them smiled at Nesta and the second one crashed into her shoulder while passing as neither her or the illyrian had given way to the other.  Nesta watched them go, silently cursing them and hoping they received their due in the training ring.

Their illyrian leathers appeared to be of an older style; older than anything she had seen Cassian or Azriel wear, clumsy and large. Possibly even made for the males as they didn’t seem to fit their bodies quite right. How on earth were they meant to train if their armor didn’t fit correctly? Nesta could feel her anger rise, females being treated as less than the males. Temper rising with the bile in her throat at the injustice.

The world tipped and the ground came up to meet her, a hand shot out and grabbed her, the smell of leather taking over her senses, protecting her from falling flat on her face. Nesta turned and looked to her saviour. A beautiful illyrian with warm brown skin and golden eyes was holding her still, the muscles corded in her lean arm from the effort. Nesta blushed and stood quickly, brushing her skirts down.

“Thank you,” she quickly huffed out, her heart still racing from her fall. The female just looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

“Next time you really should look ahead - you know,” she made a pointing gesture ahead of her with her hand, “at where you are going.”

The smile she wore was brilliant, her perfect teeth gleamed and a pair of slightly elongated canines caught Nesta’s attention, like this warrior was about to devour her prey and Nesta struggled to take a breath.

“Or perhaps you rather like gawking at us all walking down the street? Are we really that damn attractive? I’ve seen a few good asses in my time, but none of these lot have what I would call a perfect one.”

Nesta’s shock flashed across her face, she hadn’t had the chance to meet many illyrian females as they were always busy with chores or training, Emerie was an exception as she didn’t train. It was the first time in a while that Nesta had no words. Her grey eyes wide and open trying to figure out the situation.

“Look, I can stand here and look stunning all day, but I actually have somewhere to be... and I’m already running late, so i’m just going to go and catch up with the others. I won’t mind if you watch me walk away.” She said with laughter in her voice and off she went down the street, with Nesta watching her go, still stunned in silence.

Emerie

Emerie had been waiting for Nesta to arrive all morning. She wasn't a gossip but needed to know how her talk with Cassian went, especially if she was going to ask him for a favour. Having Nesta and him on good terms would make it infinitely easier than if they were at war.

Mara had been in earlier, trying to persuade Emerie to join her in the training ring but it just wasn't convenient. Her friend just could not see it from Emerie’s point of view no matter how often she told her. She found it hard to see what held Emerie back, Mara had jumped at the opportunity to train, why didn’t Emerie? And although Emerie was technically in the same position, the shop and her ambitions meant she needed to bide her time. So Mara left and caught up with the others, Emerie tidied the shop and promised her that she would meet up later, which only made Mara grin as she skipped out the door.

The bell above the door rang and Emerie turned from her cleaning and thoughts, Nesta was standing in the doorway like a plank of wood. No expression and body rigid.

“It’s not that cold today Nes, it’s warming up. Stop being a drama queen.”

“I just… I’m just trying to think”

“Think?” Emerie laughed.

“I just, I don’t know what just happened.”

“What?”

Nesta blushed and shut the door, quickly coming inside and explaining what happened. Leaving out a lot of the details. In fact nesta really only told emerie two things, that she tripped and that someone stopped her from falling flat on her face.

“That’s it?” Emerie asked, with an eyebrow raised.

“It was mortifying.” Nesta calmly reiterated.

“Nesta, sometimes we trip and fall and we actually hit the ground, you should be happy someone helped you.” She shook her head at Nesta’s stubbornness, “Sometimes you don’t make any sense, so new topic, how did the talk with Cassian go?”

“I thought you were going to tell me about your blades?” Nesta replied calmly.

“Only if you tell me about your talk.”

“If I remember it correctly, you just said I needed to go home and talk to him, but he actually wasn't at home, so it was impossible for me to perform the task and therefore no longer a requirement for you to tell me about the blades.”

“So where is he?”

“I don’t know. Don’t change the subject.” Nesta snipped.

Emerie looked her friend over and saw the rawness there still. There was something more she wasn’t saying but Nesta was never one to give up secrets, especially her own.

“Fine, do you want a drink first? Or can I get you working for me while I tell you the story?”

“I’ll clean but the story better be good!”

So Nesta and Emerie cleaned the bookshelves near the fire where black soot from the flames had built up before escaping out the chimney, and Emerie told her about the blades. Blades that she had had commissioned after her wings were clipped. After she realised that a female might need more protection than that which was offered by males. Males who held no loyalty to her. The blades had not seen a war yet or even been used for protection but they had been used in training and polished to a high shine.

“I have two fighting blades, I trained with my friends Mara and Ceinwen in the forest near the north edge of town, there is a place right before the mountain ridges form. It’s quiet and no-one but us goes there,” Emerie continued.

“When did you last train? It’s just that I haven’t seen you leave the shop and I would like to think that I noticed if you stunk up the place.” Nesta’s tact needed improving, there was a reason she kept her thoughts to herself. When she shared them she was seen as blunt and unfeeling.

“Not since the war” not since her father died Emerie wanted to say.

“Do you miss it?” Nesta raised her chin and looked at Emerie with her grey blue stare, the frosty depths seeing the truth.

“Everyday”

“Why?”

“Why do I do it? Well, when I was clipped, there was a scene, I didn’t go quietly, and that is the short version.” a lump caught in Emerie’s throat, when she was usually so sure of herself, this was a story so few knew. Then she said very quietly “No one should be forced at the hands of another, and I never. Never will be again.”

Nesta’s eyes turned glossy and distant, then quietly she said,

“I meant why haven’t you been training?”

“It’s not easy now, to make time.” she gestured to the shop around them.

“I will help you.”

“How?” the word came out on a wisp of air.

“I will make sure you can train, and that you treat people the way they truly deserve to be treated.” Nesta’s eyes had milky swirls gliding over the grey-blue and her voice didn't seem to be her own. Like some god possessed her swearing an oath. Emerie would never admit it but she was actually a little in awe of Nesta in this moment. This side to her she had only heard about but never seen. A rumor that came back from the war. The warrior witch who fought Hybern.   “But how?”

Nesta looked up at her again, the silver shadows dissapaiting and Nesta’s eyes were left as they once were.

“I ask.”

Nesta

Nesta and Emerie spent the day together, cleaning some more, and discussing ways they might enable Emerie to join the training with the other females. The hurdle of “who would look after the shop” always remained. Nesta wasn’t illyrian and it was hard enough getting customers, so the shop would still be run by Emerie during the day with shorter hours of availability. After much discussion and back and forth they realised training would need to remain secret and occur in the early evenings, the sun was staying in the sky longer, laying the way for more daylight later in the day. It worked to Nesta’s advantage as well. Having had no training of her own she would learn from Emerie and prepare herself for the day when Cassian left her alone. It was great living with an illyrian warrior but she was under no illusion that it would last. Especially since their fight. Emerie thought she might also be able to rope in Mara and Ceinwen, her friends in the camp, to join their training. Giving them some extra practise, and passing on what they learned from their day practices with the males. It all started coming together. The best part of this plan was that is was all coming together without the help of a certain overgrown bat. Emerie closed up the store early and made dinner, Nesta deciding to stay because she never did make it to the market.

It was peaceful, and pleasant, and just like the easy calm she had settled into with Cassian in their own home. She missed him… or maybe she just missed the idea of him?

The ladies finished dinner and sat down with some port, the wine was too awful last night to try a repeat performance today.

“Do you know much about illyrian history?” Nesta asked.

“I know a little, why do you ask?”

“I was reading a boo- “

“Of course you were.” Emerie interrupted, rolling her eyes.

“Let me finish! I was reading a book about illyrian history and it just seems so wrong. It feels wrong.”

“Do you have it with you?”

Nesta went and got the book out of her bag and gave it to Emerie, Emerie’s eyes lit up and she opened the book with awe.

“Why are you looking at it like that?”

“This book is the High Lords book.”

“So?”

“High Lords have books that show things as they want them to be. I mean that the books are history according to them, if it feels wrong, then the history they are passing down isn’t an accurate history of what really happened.”

“I see, that would explain why it feels like lies are slithering across the pages. How do illyrians keep their history then, if not in books? This was the only one I could find on the topic in our house.”

“We tell stories. Pass them down. Talk about heroic feats and celebrate our greatness”

“That seems a little arrogant”

“Have you ever met an illyrian who wasn’t arrogant?”

Nesta looked back at her friend who had that same grin as the female earlier, lighting up her whole face.

“Maybe if you weren’t all so beautiful you wouldn’t be so arrogant!”

Emerie let out a great laugh, “Maybe” was all she said as she went back to drinking her port and picked up her own book to read. Nesta continued to flick through the illyrian history book, getting angrier at what she read. Time ticked on and Emerie was still immersed in her book when Nesta asked,

“Will you tell me?” looking up at Emerie.

“Tell you what?”

“The history?”

Emerie closed her book, “There’s quite a bit, and it’s not usually for the females to tell.” she evaded. “The storytellers get to share the exploits of great heroes, for us all to stand in awe and feel grateful that the mighty male illyrians who came before us have done such amazing things. I wouldn’t be able to share them here incase someone came in.”

“Tell me them at training, I feel like I need to know.”

Emerie looked at Nesta and smiled, tongue in cheek she said “sure, but just remember i’m only a female and I don’t know how to tell it right.”

Nesta laughed and put the history book back in her bag, and packed up ready to go, before the darkness well and truly descended.

Tagged by request: Sorry if some of the urls are wrong.. its been a while since I updated this fic, urls have changed its been so long lol,  just let me know via ask if you want to be added or removed from my tag list for this. :) @fucking-winchester-trash @rhysanoodle @velarxs @lorcanswife @my-fan-side @wolffrising @bellsqueen @aelinashgalathynius @booksaremymate@themoonunderstoodmynightmares @prxthian @nessian-girl @fuzz-dog @archeron-queens @acotar-feels @wickedfangirl99 @empress-ofbloodshed@ame233 @tswaney17 @kefeira @rhysandsdarlingfeyre @abillionlittlepieces@ofstarsanddreams @booksaremymate @ambrosemiller@saltydreamcollector @imfandomtrash-vi @aedionashryver-wolfofthenorth @pinkjem30   @urbisie, @howtotameyourillyrian, @illyrianbeauty, @fae-queen-of-the-easton, @faeriequeenofthewest, @aqueentorattlestars, @acoaas @nephelle-warrior-scribe @librarian-of-orynth @anoverstuffedkindle, @miladyaelin, @acoaas, @tntwme @photofeesh @theyretheirthere

[theangriestpea]

Mercy Killing

A/N: Sorry this chapter is a little short. I just thought ending it where I did was perfect. There's a tiny bit of fluff though so enjoy! Coss-posted on AO3!

Chapter Five: Apologies

Dinner was strained. No one mentioned the elephant in the room. Lavender and Sweet Pea could barely look at one another. Fangs struggled to keep conversation going but it was hard when it was all one-sided. Toni and Cheryl kept stealing glances at one another, also having a hard time coping with this newfound turn to events.

“I have to watch my sister again tonight. Mom is working.” Fangs said, checking the time on the old clock in the kitchen where they were cleaning up.

Lav almost dropped the dish she was rinsing off. “What? You can’t stay?” She asked, a pleading edge to her voice. The last thing she wanted was to be left alone with a moody Sweet Pea. “Cheryl and Toni have that River Vixens event tonight so they will be gone…I was hoping you’d lay in bed with me to help me sleep.”

As much as she hated depending on everyone, she had figured that Fangs would at least be kind enough to hold her like Cheryl and Toni did early that morning. Of course she was going to wear something that covered her a little more. Not that she didn’t trust him but she wasn’t as comfortable parading around in her underwear with him. Now that she knew that they hadn’t had sex, she felt incredibly awkward around him. As if the mistake might have offended him.

Of course Fangs was just flattered that she even entertained the thought of having a rough romp with him in the Wyrm. Though he was somewhat jealous of Sweet Pea having a go at her, he wasn’t going to say anything to Lav about it to make her any more uncomfortable than she obviously already was.

“Ask Sweet Pea.” Fangs suggested, only half joking. He knew deep down that his bestie was a cuddler. He’d seen the way he’d hold a pillow as he slept. The material clutched tightly to his chest as if he were protecting the old down feathers hidden inside.

Lav almost dropped the dish again. “I am not laying in a bed alone with Sweet Pea.” She hissed out, the suggestion being completely out of the question. “There’s no fucking way.”

“Why? You’ve already casually fucked. Once you two both talk about it, it’ll be a lot better. Maybe this is a good thing, maybe he’ll realize what a nice piece of ass you are and stop pushing you away.” Fangs said as he lifted his shoulders into a dismissive shrug.

She decided to ignore his comment about her just being a piece of tail. Usually when Fangs objectified women he was just joking about it. He was never serious. “He won’t.” She replied hotly. “He’ll never say yes.” She added after a moment of thought. “He probably didn’t even enjoy it.”

Fangs laughed lightly, “I think he did and that’s why he was so mad. Though he did say you came too soon.”

Lav blushed furiously as she smacked him on the arm, “that’s not funny! I couldn’t help it! I haven’t…I haven’t had a lot of sex so I still don’t know what I’m doing half the time.”

“So you got over excited and Sweet Pea was just so fucking good that you got overwhelmed and couldn’t hold back. It happens to the best of us.” Fangs said with a lopsided smile. “Maybe next time you can go longer or just have multiple.”

She shoved him with her good hand, “we are not doing it again!”

“But you enjoyed it so much!” Fangs said, trying to persuade her that it wasn’t a terrible idea. “And have you even had sex since then?”

Lav looked away from him, still embarrassed, “well, no…but that’s because all the guys around here are jerks. Including Sweet Pea.”

“What about me?” Fangs said with an adorable pout.

She rolled her eyes, “except you, Fogarty. You’re still the best I ever had, even if it was just in my dreams.” She joked.

“Oh so you have dreamed of me?” Fangs said, his pout sliding into a smirk. “Good to know.”

Lav let out a playful scoff. In the next room she heard the TV being turned up louder. It had to have been Sweet Pea since the Vixens had left already. She shot a look to the doorway that showed how annoyed she was at the loud sounds of explosions coming from the living room.

Fangs finished putting the dishes in the dishwasher. “There, all done. Now, I have to go. Have fun tonight and don’t forget to use a condom.”

“Fangs!” Lav snapped, hitting him a third time. “No!” She said as if he were a dog doing something bad. He chuckled, shaking his head as he walked out. He said his goodbyes to Sweets before leaving.

Lavender stood in the kitchen for a moment before gathering up her courage. She walked into the living room, eyes pulling to Sweet Pea as he stared intently at the television. “It’s time for you to take your pills.” He said in a voice that was indiscernible. It wasn’t as rough as it usually was but it wasn’t soft either. Somewhere in between as if he didn’t really know how to say it. As if his feelings were just as conflicted as hers.

She gave a small nod, disappearing into her room to take her antibiotics and pain medicine. “Sweet Pea…?” She called out to him, just loud enough for him to hear over the booming television.

Silence filled the trailer as he cut the TV off and walked into her room. Confusion washed over his eyes as he noticed her in nothing but bra and underwear. He jaw clenched and his fingers twitched as he remembered what it felt like to touch her that night. He tried to push the memories into the back of his mind where he wouldn’t have to think about them.

“Can you dress my cuts?” Lav asked sheepishly, not looking at him. Her eyes stayed glue to the floor.

Sweet Pea let out a soft sigh before nodding his head. He walked over to her and just as he had the night before, started to tend to her healing wounds. His touch was delicate and light. His hands however lingered on her thighs, tracing the oval bruises as his thoughts ran deep.

Lav shuddered under his fingertips, however she didn’t say anything to him. She let him treat her cuts at his own pace. Her lower lip caught between her teeth as he looked at her as if he were seeing her for the first time. It was so unnerving that her knees began to shake.

“I’m sorry.” Sweet Pea said after addressing the laceration on her stomach. He had been reamed by Cheryl for what he said to Lav about her being stupid. She made sure to tell him in her very intricate vocabulary that he was the one that was a dumbass and that what he had said had made Lav feel even worse than she already did. That hadn’t been his intention. She woefully set him straight.

Their eyes connected and he realized that she had no idea what he was talking about. “For what I said.” He added, quickly looking away from her as his cheeks turned the slightest shade of pink. “For calling you dumb.”

Her breath hitched in her throat as he stood up, having been kneeling down to tend to her thighs and abdomen. “You’re not stupid.” He added, sounding a little more confident in what he was saying.

“Thanks.” Lav said, a ghost of a smile on her lips. A spark of happiness ignited through her chest. Sweet Pea had never apologized for the way he acted towards her. He never made excuses either. He just was. Perhaps this meant he didn’t hate her after all. Perhaps Fangs was on to something.

Sweet Pea was tenderly touching her face now in a way that had her edging closer to him. He peeled back the tape and revealed the mars on her cheek. A frown graced his pink lips as he looked over the galaxy of her skin. The blue, purple, and blacks spreading across her face where her broken orbital bone was. The surface was swollen and angry.

He dabbed ointment onto each cut, his eyes never leaving her face as he worked. Her smile became more visible as he went on, grabbing a new gauze pad to put over the wounds.

“Will you sleep with me tonight?” She finally asked, her stomach a bundle of nerves from not knowing what his answer would be. His face was a mixture of confusion and frustration. His expression made her stomach drop and suddenly she felt very stupid for getting her hopes up. “You’re too big for the couch. You’ll fit better in my bed and…I don’t want to be alone.” She added, jumbling her words as she said them quickly.

Sweet Pea mulled it over while they stood in an awkward, tense silence. Lav shifted nervously, her body acting like it was on repeat as she kept moving her weight from one foot to the other.

He really hated her couch. It was lumpy and uncomfortable and his feet hung off the side. Her bed was only a full-size so they’d be touching but would that really be so bad? After what they had done that night at the Wyrm? After he cleaned her up and tended to her gashes.

It was also highly likely that she’d wake him up screaming if he didn’t lie with her. That was not something he really wanted to go through again. “Let me change.” He replied, disappearing from her room as his hand dropped from touching her face. “Put some clothes on!” He shouted from the living room and he rummaged through his bag of clothes.

Lav shook her head, smiling again as a blossom of excitement bloomed inside of her. She took off her bra before putting on an oversized T-shirt and a pair of cloth shorts. Getting dressed was easier now that the worse of the pain had dissipated. Her ribs and face still ached terribly but that was to be expected. Between her legs, her core was sore as the cuts were still healing. She let out a sigh, closing her eyes tight so she wouldn’t have to think about it.

“I need to know what they used.” Jughead’s voice sounded in her head. Water filled her eyes and she used the heels of her hands to gently rub them dry. He didn’t need to know, she thought bitterly. No one needed to know.

She turned the light out before crawling into bed, curling into as tight of a ball as possible without hurting her fractured bones. I need to know- her thought was interrupted by the sinking of the bed. Sweet Pea laid down beside her in a pair of plaid pajama pants and a tight white tank top.

She looked at him with a terribly fragile expression. One that made him wrap his arm around her and pull her to his chest securely for comfort. He didn’t know what he was doing or why he was doing it. It just felt natural.

Lav didn’t fight him, she leaned back against him and let out a small breath of relief. His arm was around her small waist, in a perfect spot between the mess of gauze on her lower stomach and the bands of cloth around her ribs. His nose nestled sweetly into her hair as if it were meant to have been there all along.

Feeling safer than she had in a long time, Lav fell asleep.

*~~~~~~~~~~~*

Her clothes were ripping, her skin was aching, and all she could hear was cruel laughter falling from black painted lips. Hollow eyes glittering with heinous joy as their claws tore into her flesh. Blood splattered around her, pooling against her cold body. She couldn’t move, she couldn’t breathe. Her limbs felt like they were wrapped in cement as firm grips held her down.

Her legs were pulled apart and she felt as if she was being torn. Light glinted off the blades that were being used to etch scars into her skin. It blinded her with pain. It seemed to last for hours, darkness creeping across her body as she was abased by what was happening to her.

Lav

They pulled on her limbs and she felt as though she might rip in half.

Lavender

She felt herself tearing down the middle. Her mouth opened but no sound came from her chapped lips as she tried to wretch out a scream.

Shanna

The darkness started fade. The cement around her limbs dissolving. Her tarnished tissue healing itself as her body was once again whole.

Lavender opened her eyes. Her wide pupils swept away with panic as they searched over the baby face hovering over her. Strong arms on either side of her. She felt trapped, claustrophobic. Brown eyes full of emotions she couldn’t name as she searched them for malice or contempt. She found none.

Her thoughts buzzed around like bees in her head before settling into the hive of her brain. Recognition came over her as she realized that the boy over her wasn’t going to hurt her. “Sorry.” She muttered, dry eyes suddenly becoming wet, “I’m so sorry.”

Sweet Pea stared down at her, finally moving off to the side to simply hold her as she cried. The awkward feeling in his chest didn’t move as he searched for words he knew he didn’t want to say. “It’s okay.” He mumbled, his grip on her tight like it was that night in the bar. “It’s okay.”

[creative-writing-sanders]

lifehelds - chapter one

read it on ao3

a/n: currently working on chapter six for this after way too much homework, so if i can’t post the next chapter, may as well post part of it here.

__________________________________________

Virgil kept walking, trying not to let his limp show, it made his leg hurt more, but it was more important not to stand out. Not in this neighbourhood, and not on a day when he was specifically instructed to stay on the Lifeheld Only side of town. The law stated anyone caught outside the Lifeheld Only boundaries were accountable for any ill actions that may be taken against them on the Night of the Pure.

The Night of the Pure was a weird concept to him. Why did the Pure need a night? It wasn’t as though those with Life were going to stop them- they didn’t stand a chance. Not when the Pure were statistically stronger than any Life being would ever dream of naturally being. It wasn’t uncommon to find Pure children bullying the Lifeheld children in the schoolyard.

Which actually explained Virgil’s injury. The day before, one of the seniors at the Integrated School for Exceptional Pupils had felt the fact Virgil lived with fellow Lifeheld people, and had not been born or created by the Pure highly offensive, causing him to go… well, ape shit, for lack of a better word. Ape shit on Virgil for simply existing the ‘wrong’ way. Luckily, one of the more respectable Pures had stepped in scaring off the other, which is why the injured teenager wasn’t in the Lifeheld sector, instead of walking through the rapidly darkening community that Patton Fields lived in.

It was comical to imagine Patton being scary- he was known around ISEP for his cheerful demeanor. No, it wasn’t outward intimidation that had persuaded Loki to fuck off, but instead, it was the status Patton carried. Virgil never spent much time in the wealthy Pure neighbourhoods, they were very exclusive typically, just seeing the houses lined up was enough for him to understand why Loki had scrambled like a worm thrown onto hot asphalt. The houses all had a Victorian aesthetic, with extravagant porches, and three to four storeys (which was two too many, in Virgil’s opinion).

He felt some weight fall off his shoulders after coming up to a house that almost screamed Fields. Maybe it was the good old fashioned mailbox that read the surname in bold letters, or maybe the perfectly groomed lawn with bikes strewn across it. No matter, though, it was obvious enough that the seventeen year old found little doubt it was the right door he had to knock out. While walking up the driveway, there was a slight hammering in his chest. Would he be in trouble for being out during the Night of The Pure? Well… Mr. Fields wasn’t his parent, it would be fine, right?

‘Maybe this could wait until- oh.’ The door opened before Virgil could actually raise a hand to hit the solid wood (or back out, both were likely to happen). He was greeted with a woman who had to have been just entering her forties. Her eyes were a warm, welcoming brown, and but her stance was somewhat guarded. She glanced the teenager up and down. There was a critical look in her eye before she sighed.

“Honey, what are you doing out here? The North Side is no place for you to be!” Perhaps his facial expression betrayed how taken aback Virgil felt- it was a very casual way of speaking, as though they were old friends because she quickly continued. “Sorry, sugar. I’m Martha Fields. You must be here for Patton, but dear, you know it isn’t safe now, right?” How Mrs. Fields knew he wasn’t Pure was beyond Virgil.

Instead, he nodded mutely. “Er- I’m Virgil Masterson. Sorry, I just, I needed to tell Patton something. I can just- go.” The purple haired boy turned on his heel, only to have a disapproving Mom Sigh™ sent at him.

“You’re already here, I’ll go get Patton, but you aren’t walking home, it’s far too dangerous to go alone.”

“That really isn’t necess—.”

She shushed Virgil before lightly jogging up the stairs. “Patton, there’s someone here for you, and I’ve got you a job.”

While Martha had temporarily gone, perhaps talking to her son, he took the time to study the area. The house seemed to have an open plan on the first floor, seeing as from the doorway he could see a lived in living room, one with Barbies strewn around and a few coffee mugs on the table. A ways away there was a kitchen as well, which didn’t make much sense as Pures were known to not require Lifeheld food, but it was, of course, none of Virgil’s business.

Hearing footsteps come down, the kid looked at his feet, scuffing one toe against the other. Martha seemed to have stayed upstairs, so it was only Patton.

“Hi!” There was confusion in the older’s eyes as he looked down towards Virgil. “I hear you’re here for me?”

He nodded, “I wanted to say- thanks?” Virgil winced as his voice trailed off to a much higher pitch as he realized how dumb it was to sacrifice safety to thank the other. To be fair, though, he had been thinking that if he didn’t acknowledge what Patton had done, he wouldn’t help Virgil if the situation were to happen again.

“You’re welcome!” The eighteen year old smiled, “Why are you welcome, though?”

He didn’t even remember-! That made Virgil ten times creepier. “You- uh… helped me out with Loki yesterday.”

“No need to thank me, kiddo!” Kiddo-? Virgil was only a year younger than Patton! “I was just doing what a decent person should! I can’t stand bullies.” He looked away before smiling once more. “Now we should probably get you home, before it’s officially night.”

Checking his phone, Virgil found the time; 5:38. They had twenty-two minutes. Patton did the same, but with a watch on his wrist, his eyes widening.

“Alrighty, well we should hit the road!” The senior slipped on a pair of shoes, Virgil failed to notice their house was one where you didn’t wear shoes insides. Interesting. He followed outside, prepared to begin a walk, only to find Patton walk to the garage he had ignored upon the initial house review.

The car was somewhat new appearing, a van that looked like a rich soccer mom would drive in a sky blue. Not Virgil’s style, but pretty still.

“Hop in, Virgil! This is Bertha!”

He did. “Bertha?”

“Yep!” Patton nodded, doing his seatbelt up and waiting until Virgil did the same to even start the engine. “She’s a Bertha-day car.”

The purple-haired teenager snorted, and looked at the GPS that was equipped. “Can I-?” He questioned, gesturing to it. Patton nodded enthusiastically, setting up the radio.

When the address was tapped in, and a route mapped, Patton hummed. “I know that road- one of my friends lives there! I practically live there for some weeks!”

Virgil just nodded. He also lived there some weeks, but- that had to be obvious.

______________________________________

The rest of the drive had been relatively silent. Patton was a careful driver, even if he was a little jumpy when someone- a Pure- looked into the car. He danced in his seat to the bubblegum pop music that played on the radio, and never went a mile above the speed limit. Virgil often found it difficult, terribly difficult to relax when there was a driver he didn’t know well, but with the older student, it only took half the ride before he could release the tension in his shoulders.

Soon enough, the familiar line of a single tree on each property rolled up. Unlike Patton’s neighbourhood, this one had many children still playing around; parents hovering through windows. Outside his own house was the familiar face of Virgil’s older brother. Even with the sunglasses obscuring his face (why was he wearing sunglasses? The sun was just going down!), it was evident enough that he was irritated.

Patton whistled in sympathy as he pulled into the driveway. “Someone’s unhappy.”

“Yeah. Thanks for pointing that out.” The other rolled his eyes. Remy being angry was uncommon. He was never more than irritated at most with Virgil, but it seemed that this time he was legitimately upset. With a long-suffering sigh, Virgil opened the car door, “Uh- thanks-- again. I wouldn’t have gotten out of the Pure district on time if it wasn’t for you.”

Patton just nodded, “Stay safe, kiddo!” With that, the cardigan-clad teenager backed out, driving down the road and back to the North side of town.

The walk to the landing Remy stood on was daunting. The crunch of gravel under his off-brand canvas shoes was suddenly very interesting; the shoes themselves, too.

“Virgil,” He greeted. That was startling. Remy hardly ever called the shorter male by his full name. Virge, V, anything but Virgil.

“Hey… Rem,” There was a weak attempt at nonchalance from Virgil. “Whatcha doin’ out here?”

“Wha-” The brother sent a look to the emo. “What do you mean, ‘what am I doing’?” He flipped up his glasses to rest on top of his head. “You know the day. You know you shouldn’t, like, be out without telling me or mum where you’re going on the Night of the Pure!” He paced around, “I tried to text you, man, I did- and you didn’t answer me, like, not even once!”

Did he really? Virgil pulled out his phone. There was, in fact, maybe fifty texts from Remy alone. How did he miss those beforehand? They weren’t recent. “I- yeah. Okay. Valid. I understand.” Virgil raised his arms in mock surrender.

“I don’t think you do Virge.” Remy sighed. He was usually so lighthearted and fun, it made the… scolding much worse than it would it have been if it was his mother.

Virgil flushed from the scorn, guilt evident on his face as Remy pulled the younger into a hug. It was more emotionally charged than normal. The embrace lasted too long for the teenager as he wriggled out of Remy’s grasp. “Can we go inside?”

There was a nod, and then the more comforting, warm house welcomed Virgil home. To the left, he could hear the hum of a cooking show that his mother listened to (“Raw chicken again! It’s fucking redder than your beard!”), and to the right was the sound of his brother’s boyfriend banging around in the kitchen.

“Mom!” Remy called. He looked at Virgil to silently say he couldn’t escape to his bedroom yet.

The sound of the television turned down. “Yes, Rem?”

“I found a rat.”

“Hey- mmph!” Virgil tried to protest, but a hand went over his mouth before he could successfully defend himself.

“A rat-?!” She repeated. Mrs. Masterson was a chef, and rats were one of her declared mortal enemies. She refused to let Virgil buy one for his sixteenth birthday, declaring they were ‘plague children’. “Remy, you know how much I hate- oh.” The fire in her eyes lessened upon seeing Virgil. “Oh! Virge!” She rushed over, squeezing him tightly before smacking the back of his head. “Don’t- don’t do that! You scared the shit out of me!”

Virgil patted her shoulder. “I know, I’m sorry. I had to talk to one of the guys from school. You know how is it, right?”

“It couldn’t have waited until tomorrow?!”

Virgil shook his head. “It’s okay, though! I got back before 6:00,” He purposely ignored the cough from Remy that covered the ‘barely’ he uttered.

Mrs. Masterson shook her head, hugging Virgil again before ducking into the living room. “You’re grounded!” She called, jokingly.

‘Jokes on you, to punish me you’d have to make me stay out of the house.’ He thought to himself, fondly smiling at his mother’s antics.

“Emile’s making dinner,” Remy informed the youngest Masterson, watching him climb the stairs to the bedrooms. “Be down, like… soon-ish?”

“You got it, Rem.” He nodded, finishing the climb.

Up in the safety of the dark purple room, Virgil pulled out his journal, writing observations on the Pure neighbourhood, his interactions with two members of the Fields family, and their compassion that was scarce to find directed towards Virgil.

His journal was a simple one, Moleskin, with doodles and stickers all around the cover. Inside, however, there was a mix of entries, and what Virgil learned about the Pure. Bullet points on their lore and history, adding to it as he found new information. The journal was three and a half years old, he started it once being accepted into ISEP, joining Pures on equal ground.

The sound of a gel pen scratching on the paper filled Virgil’s room, along with the soft hum of the obscure band, Moose Blood, playing as he wrote the day’s events. All too soon, the destresser was interrupted.

“Virgil! Come downstairs! Dinner!”

[helplesslyfictional]

Loki Fanfiction - Remember the Old Ways, Chapter 10 - “Light”

Author’s Note: Whew, this chapter was long (9477 words, friends)! It was so nice to write some more light-hearted stuff in this chapter. It didn’t feel like it was that long when I was writing it - right now everything’s clicking into place for the plot, and I’m so excited to write what’s coming up next!

Chapter Summary: Thor grapples with new revelations. Loki plans a trip to Vanaheim before deciding on a new task with his siblings. Pairings: None! These stories are focused on family relationships.

What characters, then?   Loki, Thor, Odin, Frigga, OCs [Sophia] [Forsetti], Heimdall

When? Pre-Thor 2011: From Asgard to Earth, will go through Thor 2011 Chapter Warnings: Mature themes, emotional trauma, anxiety

Taglist: @loki-the-fox; @i-am-loki-and-now-i-speak-up; @trickster-grrrl; @deviantredhead; @mylokabrennauniverse; @leanmeanand-green; @juliabohemian; @latent-thoughts; @lucianalight; @nox-th-lk-sf; @be-a-snake-stab-your-brother; @myart-reviews Please let me know if you would like to be added/removed from tags and I’m more than happy to do so!

AO3 story link; Wattpad; Promo/Master Post (please share if you like the fic!)

tumblr: Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9

Thor closed his eyes, relaxing as the wind, ever familiar, ruffled his hair. He was in the last remaining private spot he’d found without Loki discovering it. Here he knew he could be alone. The drop from his perch was the tallest in Asgard with the exception of the zenith of the palace; this little ledge was sheltered by great golden wings rising on both sides. The warm sun of the sky-shroud banished the chill of winter, comforting Thor like a warm blanket.

In some ways he felt like a child now, in need of the familiar and the safe, like this spot. But, for him, things in the palace no longer felt stable. Though he’d understood Loki’s suspicions all along, Thor had dismissed them at some level as speculation. Loki was prone to flights of fantasy and conjecture, preferring to focus on ideas rather than reality.

With Heimdall’s confirmation, however, all the theories had become set in stone. His parents had been concealing the truth, potentially hiding more than what had been found by Loki. And why?

Why would they have done this to him? Hide not just a sister, but his own twin? What possible reason could be good enough? Loki’s vision suggested the invasion was linked to her disappearance, but it seemed to him it was no excuse. Asgard would fight to the end for him, why wouldn’t they for his sister in kind?

And his parents had not just hidden her, they had denigrated her by making her mortal. Stripped of identity, of status, of strength, and anything connecting her to Asgard. No wonder she was so frightened all the time, her fear pulsing its way through his heart. Anything that would give her the ability to defend herself was gone. In many ways, he was everything she wasn’t.

He ought to go to Midgard immediately and bring her here, back home. He might be able to persuade Heimdall to let him use the Bifrost, he’d seemed amenable thus far. His father had instituted a ban on going there, but why should it matter if he had done this to his family?

Wait - was the ban in place to keep them apart?

By the Norns! Thor leaned back against the wall behind him, clenching his fists. Everything. Everything tied to this. His life had been all illusion but no substance. Now that she was around him, he felt whole for the first time in his life, something he had been missing all this time. It was intoxicatingly wonderful, and to think, he could have had it all along. He could have felt complete this whole time.

A passing cloud blotted out the sun, the cold chill of winter creeping in once more through Thor’s armor. Though Loki had always been there, they’d never had a true connection, not like this. The emotions, the memories, the dreams - though the amount of sway she had was powerful against him, he felt, deep down, that being close to her was true and right. What had she said? Right, like the thrum of a bow? As though this was meant to be. That, as Loki had mentioned, the universe willed it.

If that was the case, then the designs of his parents mattered little in the scheme of things. Forces seemed to be drawing them together into one another’s orbits despite all obstacles.

Nonetheless, the idea that he could no longer trust his father disturbed Thor on a fundamental level. He’d always worked hard to be the best son and heir to his parents. To be an exceptional example. In many ways, he was doing well on that front; Father trusted him enough to be crowning him King. But this betrayal of trust made Thor doubt their faith in him. Was he bearing the burden of two children instead of one? Trying to fill a role far too large?

Would they have told him about Sophia after he had been made King, or would he have been kept in the dark had Loki not made this discovery?

Slowly it dawned on Thor that bringing Sophia back to Asgard would compromise the Crown. He needed to be seen as the trusted heir of a strong, long-standing King. Fitting into the image he’d worked hard to forge - that of a lauded prince. The people loved Odin. Bringing forward a threat to that idea would turn public opinion, and his father, against him. Was this woman worth that?

Thor began to feel slightly dizzy with the fear, anger, and sadness fighting within him. He wanted to punch something or cry like a child, but he felt paralyzed, unable to do anything but feel it churning within.

A warmth slowly spread through him, but it wasn’t from the sun. Opening his eyes, Thor saw Sophia sitting next to him. This wasn’t a good time, it just wasn’t.

“It is unwise to be in my presence right now,” Thor said deeply, trying to will her away.

Sophia looked at him, brushing a hair out of her face and leaning against a golden wing. He felt her deep sadness and confusion, but tried to push it out. He was already feeling far too much on his own, he didn’t need to deal with her emotions as well.

“Sophia, you need to go,” Thor reiterated forcefully, “I can’t deal with you right now.”

“When are you going to deal with me?” Sophia asked, crossing her legs.

“Later.”

“Well, I don’t want to deal with this later. We’re both hurting, and there’s no sense in hurting alone.”

Thor turned his head to glare at her. “Hurting alone is just fine. It’s a better way to deal with things than talking.”

“Deal with it how, exactly? It doesn’t work the problem through. If you’re at all like me, you’re making everything palatable enough to shove down your feelings and try to make them go away.”

That was it. “I don’t do that,” he snarled, “Stop reading into me. You don’t know me!”

Sophia shrank back a little, and Thor felt her fear in reaction. He didn’t mean to scare her, simply to make her stop. “You’re right,” she said more softly. “I don’t. Sometimes I just feel like I do. I’m sorry.”

Thor felt his heart go out to her. Damn it, he thought, I’m going to feel bad if she leaves now. “Don’t take things the wrong way. It’s just...a lot to think about.”

Sophia leaned over her legs, stretching her back a little. “This is certainly a good place to think. If I was here physically, I’d be pretty scared, but it’s a great view.”

Thor gave a little smile. “Well, don’t tell Loki. This is the only spot he hasn’t discovered me in.”

“Don’t worry,” Sophia said. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

Thor looked at her carefully. He didn’t know why that made him feel just a little bit better. “Thank you.”

A brief moment passed before Sophia spoke again. “Trying to understand how this is possible is probably the hardest thing for me. I mean, I was so sure my mother was my mother, you know? And that I’m...human. It seemed like those were...unchangeable facts.”

Thor snorted. “Facts no longer exist,” he said in a derisive tone. “I thought I could trust my parents. That I was the elder of two sons. And yet those basic things - they’re no longer true.” Thor pulled up his legs and crossed them. “As to how it happened - I’m sure Loki will find the answer. Undoubtedly it’s magical. Mother is perhaps the most skilled sorceress Asgard has known.” That left a sour taste in his mouth. He should feel proud of that, but now it had been used against him.

Sophia leaned closer to him, looking concerned. “I felt that,” she said, her eyes searching his. “It’s okay to have mixed feelings about one’s parents. I certainly learned that the hard way.”

Thor frowned, struggling to hold back the tears that sprang forward. Damn, she shouldn’t have to see this. Hold yourself together. Kings don’t cry.“It shouldn’t be this way. I should be able to trust them, I have - all my life - I mean, they’re my parents. They’ve always been people I’ve looked up to. I just - “ He struggled to put things into words.

“I think,” she said slowly, “there’s always a point in life when children realize their parents were never perfect, that they weren’t all-powerful gods. I’m not saying you haven’t realized that before, but there’s a point when it really rings true. And you realize that your parents are full people with flaws and problems of their own.”

Thor shook his head. “I know that, I did know that, but - they were always better than their faults. They’re...the king and queen.” He gave a disbelieving smile. “The ones we’re supposed to emulate, to aspire to be. An example to the people, for the children to want to be and the generals to point to as leaders.”

“It sounds like you’re mixing their position with their roles as your parents. A family is still a family, no matter what positions they hold in society.”

Thor shook his head. “They can’t be...divorced from that role, though. My father is both my king - and my father. I have to hold a duty to him in both roles - as a son and his heir. When I was growing up, it was a fact ever-present in my life.” He looked down at his hands. “When we would misbehave, Father used to threaten to put Loki and I in prison. As though we were committing treason.” Glancing up, he scrutinized her. “I suppose it’s a mercy you never had to experience that.”

Sophia screwed up her face. “I don’t know, growing up with my parents wasn’t a walk in the park either.”

“Oh please, tell me how your life was worse,” Thor said teasingly, but realization dawned on him that his sister had grown up with the family that, likely, his parents had chosen. Whatever it was she’d experienced, it was their fault as well.

“My parents - well, I used to think they were great parents, even for years. It wasn’t until some...terrible things happened and I began talking about it that I realized something was wrong.”

“Was that the memory I saw?” Thor asked. “I do hope you don’t remember it, your feelings were...awful.”

“Sometimes that’s hard,” Sophia said, shifting uncomfortably. “There’s more than just that memory. But that’s not the point. The point is that I slowly began to realize that there were problems with my upbringing - problems that affected me throughout my life.

“I grew up schooled at home, unlike most people in my country. That meant that my parents had complete control over me - from how I spent my time to what I could read. It also meant I spent all of my time in the presence of my family - mother, father, and a younger brother.”

Thor’s eyes widened. She had a sibling with this other family? He quickly tried to imagine what it would be like to find out Loki wasn’t his brother. It was incomprehensible. Nonetheless, her experience sounded no different than his and Loki’s - they too spent their time together.

She continued. “Any small thing could make an impact in the family - the smallest thing would make my parents angry. It felt like anything I did would make them upset at me. So I worked to please them, to make everyone love me. It worked for a while, but…” Her voice drifted off, as did her eyes. Then she blinked and focused. “When it stopped working, I didn’t know a different way to try and get my parents to love me.” She pursed her lips. “It took me a long time to realize that I shouldn’t be the one making them love me, they should do it on their own.” Locking eyes with him, she gave a weak smile. “And they haven’t. So I just have to accept that they don’t, or pine after something I’ll never receive.”

“But do you still love them? That’s the question.”

“Of course I do. I love them because they are...were...my family. But you can hate and love them at the same time, it’s just not easy.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Thor said, reaching out and rubbing her back. “Don’t worry, once you come here, you will be loved. My parents are…” His voice trailed off as his mind caught up to his instinctive desire to comfort her. His parents couldn’t have loved her if they did this to her. But they’d loved him, hadn’t they? “I suppose - Loki and I, we will love you.” He gave her a half-hearted smile.

“I appreciate the sentiment,” Sophia said softly. “But even though I want to be loved, it’s not - it’s not something I worry about. I worry more about being alone.”

Thor thought for a moment, squinting as he scanned the skyline. “I suppose I don’t worry about love myself. But being alone? Yes.” He paused. “Aside from what I’ve already mentioned about loneliness throughout my life, my position isolates me from others. It always has. Everyone always wants something, to influence me, or to catch me doing something wrong. That, or they expect me to punish or reward them. It’s exhausting to try and catch it before it affects me. And it’s never truly conducive to friendship.”

She frowned. “What about your friends, Lady Sif and the others?”

“Even with them there is a boundary that cannot be crossed.”

“Is it not within your ability to change that?”

Thor sighed. “I tried, honestly. But between the necessity of giving orders and my duties, the line still remains.”

Sophia smiled, saying jokingly, “Have you tried just getting out and meeting new people?”

“I can’t just do that.” Thor didn’t want to join in the jest. “I’m recognizable everywhere I go. Loki has the ability to disguise himself and blend into a crowd, but I’ve always been noticed. I’ve always been jealous of him for that - the freedom to go where he wills. To disappear.”

“I understand,” Sophia said, cocking her head as she scrutinized his face, “When I was a diplomat abroad, I was in a country where it was easy to tell where I came from. Even when I was walking around the neighborhood, people would, on sight, try to get something from me. It was hard because I was representing my country, so I had to be polite, even when I just wanted them to leave me alone. In other respects, I always wanted to help them and...couldn’t.”

Impressive, she did understand. He thought he’d been alone in that feeling. “I do as well. I do want to help everyone. To take away their cares, or to be the person they want me to be. I love seeing the joy in their eyes; I love when they love me. But sometimes I think it makes it hard to be...just myself.”

Sophia stared at him for a few moments, then nodded. ���That’s how I felt, especially when I was with my parents. Like I didn’t exist - I always felt like a mirror.”

“Yes!” Thor’s head snapped. Her analogy was perfect. “Yes, that’s exactly it. Like a mirror. Always what other people want to see, never yourself.”

Sophia suddenly reached over, trying, and failing, to reach around him for a hug. Thor softened, touched by the gesture. “I was worried we didn’t have much in common,” she said quietly. “That the universe was throwing us together and we were just two random people.”

“We’re not two random people,” Thor said, bringing her closer. “We’re not just blood, either, we’re two halves of a whole. We were meant to find one another - I know it in my bones. I just grieve that we were separated at all.”

Thor couldn’t see Sophia’s face, but he felt her anxiety. “I know that I want this,” Sophia said. “But I worry I should feel more than that, that I should be sad for a life I never had. Instead I just look to it as a developing future of possibilities. Is that - is that wrong?”

Thor frowned. It was a little odd she thought that way. “How old are you, Sophia? It seems like you are...young.”

“That’s what’s so strange to me. I’m thirty years old.” Thor’s blood froze. Thirty years. How was such a thing possible? “Why, how old are you?” she asked. “For us to have myths it must be...a bit.”

Thor mumbled out “1046” without thinking, his mind still on the age gap. Sophia sucked in her breath. “Jesus. I suppose that makes sense, but...wow.”

“But we were born at the same time,” Thor said, turning things over in his mind, his breath coming more quickly. He felt the sky answer his emotion, the clouds beginning to churn. He didn’t try to stop it.

Sophia looked up at him with a smile. “That is what being a twin means,” she said teasingly.

Thor extracted himself from the embrace, standing up, anger flaring within him. “One thousand years,” he forced out. “A millenia without you! A thousand years together, stolen!” A storm began to coalesce, the thunder cracking as much as his heart.

“Do you not see, Sophia? You will outlive me. A thousand years was stolen from me, and a thousand from you, all told. Though worse for you, I think, because if I do die of old age, then you’ll have known me and have me no longer.” He laughed wryly as the wind began to whip past them. “To think, they - “ the tears threatened to come forward again. “They committed the worst crime.”

Sophia slowly stood, back against the golden wing flanking their ledge. She was scared, though of what he was unsure. “They must’ve had a reason,” she raised her voice over the wind, “It’s not the worst thing. They didn’t do it just to hurt us!”

“What?” Thor said, shaking his head and walking toward her. “How can you defend this? Your own parents hurt you, would you defend them as well?”

“Yes, because they did the best they could! That’s all we can ask for.”

He wanted to give them the benefit of the doubt. That there was some sort of grandiose plan. But he couldn’t see it.

Sophia flinched at a flash of lightning, but she stood tall. It was so strange to feel her emotions on top of his, to feel instead of guess that she was both concerned and filled with sadness.  “Thor,” she said, “Thor, we can’t focus on the past. It’s gone, it can’t be changed.”

Thor continued to fight back tears. As she wrapped her arms around him once more, they came forth, and Thor couldn’t help but sob like a child, all the emotions flooding out. The sky answered, rain pouring down and helping mask his tears.

--------------

After Sophia insisted on finding Thor, Loki decided to chase down information lurking on Vanaheim. His - sister, now, he should call her - ignored his warnings about Thor’s temper to go comfort him. Likely a futile endeavor; any moment he expected her back in tears.

Vanaheim promised to hold further information. Speaking with another practicing Seer might help to shed light on seidr, a topic Loki still desperately wished to know more about. It seemed odd to him that such a magic would have been hidden.

Heimdall’s possession of the Sight was also interesting to Loki, particularly since it was associated with women. He wondered, briefly, if Heimdall kept to himself because of the outcast nature of men who had the Sight. He’d never heard any whispers to indicate that, but, by keeping to himself, Heimdall might have quelled such rumors.

Forsetti’s interest in the Vidfavne situation made Loki think he’d be a good resource, one that could also be cultivated in his favor, per Sophia’s suggestion. If Forsetti was correct and there was a problem with basic resources in the region, then it needed to be dealt with accordingly. If that coincided with a visit to the Seers, then all ends could be tied up neatly and he might come out looking competent in his father’s eyes. All in all, not a bad result.

Tendrils of feelings kept creeping into Loki’s mind, both his and Sophia’s. The confirmations by Heimdall were both exhilarating and devastating. He’d suspected all along there were things being hidden by his parents, but to hear them so clearly confirmed was still difficult. Harder for Thor, to be certain, but it didn’t change the fact he could clearly no longer take for granted what he’d been told his entire life. Patterns were beginning to emerge as to why his parents hid such things, but he hadn’t quite put together the pieces.

Visiting Forsetti’s office took little to no time at all; the noble was more than amenable to the idea of accompanying Loki to Vanaheim. Though it had been some time since Forsetti had served on Vanaheim, he knew the right contacts to pull strings and facilitate the trip. They’d depart on the morrow - there was no sense wasting time.

By the time Loki got back outside, it was raining. Thunder boomed overhead, and Loki looked up, squinting as raindrops started to get in his eyes. Yes, this was definitely his brother’s doing. Quickly, he self-examined his emotions to find Sophia’s current state. She was sad, but not overwhelmingly so, and concerned. Hardly the level of upset he’d expect if his brother’s temper flared.

Loki pursed his lips as he walked, wondering what they were talking about. It was strange to know she was here on Asgard without being in his presence. How were they going to bring her to Asgard? With the depth of secrecy given to Sophia’s existence, his parents would certainly be unhappy if she were to return.

Yet, she belonged here on Asgard, that much was for certain. And the prophecy seemed to indicate that their duties as Children of Time necessitated their reunion. If that were to happen, whatever binding was placed on her needed to be removed.

Loki considered this as he re-entered the palace, ignoring the servants wiping the rain off their gilded floors. He could probably remove the binding, depending on the complexity. He wondered why had Sophia been bound in the first place, particularly as a child. It seemed like hiding her existence was too simple a reason, especially given his vision. In his vision, It seemed as though it was critically important for Frigga to finish the binding.

Perhaps Forsetti might have some answers. The cover-up around the Elven invasion was comprehensive, so Loki had no doubt that speaking about what happened would be a treasonous crime. He hadn’t asked about this during his visit for that precise reason. Forsetti needed some grooming before he could be asked to do something so grave.

As Loki entered his room, he halted as he saw someone waiting, then realized it was Sophia. Her eyes were red and her body language was meek, which was unusual for her. Glancing around the room, he didn’t see Thor. “Is everything alright, Sophia?”

She nodded. “Just a little emotional, that’s all. Thor’s on his way. He said something about the binding spell?”

Ah. Thor was probably thinking along the same lines as he was. “I was hoping to have a better look at it myself. I’m guessing things went alright with my - our - brother.” He headed to the largest section of his room, where he practiced spellwork, indicating for Sophia to follow.

She frowned. “Yes. It’s going to take a lot of getting used to the idea that we’re family,” she said, coming up alongside him. “Thor’s quite upset, but he’s calmed down. I think the initial surprise has worn off, and he’s...processing.”

“Not unlike when I found out about my demise, I’m sure,” Loki said wryly, then regretted it. He didn’t mean to make this about him.

Sophia shot him an annoyed glance. “It’s a little different, I think. Not to diminish how significant that was, but this changes his worldview.”

Loki gave a tight smile. “Mm. He hasn’t had something like that.” Leave it to Thor to take the center stage. “Can you stand here?”

Sophia stood in the center of the square space, looking at him expectantly. Loki carefully cast a familiar spell, generating a blue dodecahedron of light and moving it to shine on Sophia.

He didn’t quite know why he was jealous of Thor over this. Perhaps it was that, instead of being their sibling, Sophia was Thor’s twin. It somehow tied her more closely with Thor and, most likely, was the source of their natural mental connection. It was something he didn’t have, now. Even though he had a connection with Sophia, it still stung that it needed to be purposeful rather than natural.

“Nothing up front. I’m going to move it around to your back,” Loki said, not wanting Sophia to be surprised. With that, he slowly brought the orb around, examining her side while moving.

He shouldn’t be thinking this way. They were family now, becoming more whole. Why drag this down with such hurtful feelings? He shook his head - then, as the orb lit Sophia’s back, he saw something.

There was the rune Elhaz, sitting on the back of Sophia’s neck, glimmering silver under the spell’s light. The spell, fortunately, shone through clothing and skin, otherwise he might have missed it under her hair. Loki drew closer to get a better look.

Thor entered without knocking, closing the door behind him. His eyes widened when he noticed them. “Oh! Good, you went ahead and started.”

“Thank you for using the door, at least,” Loki said wryly. “Yes, I’ve found it, I think. It’s a bind-rune. Not unlike a rune of protection, but this is…” He squinted at it. “Complicated.”

“If Mother was involved, I’ve no doubt it is,” Thor said, dragging a chair into the space and plopping down. “Can you undo it?”

“Probably.” Loki dissipated the light, taking Sophia’s shoulders and moving her into the perfect center of the space, delineated by dark blue tiles. “It’s on the back of your neck, Sophia, so I’m going to access it now. You can move, but please do so slowly, and let me know before doing it. I’m going to be working with its energy back here, so I need to be able to anticipate any changes.”

“I understood about half of that,” Sophia said, “but I’ll do what I can.”

Loki brushed aside Sophia’s hair. Now that he knew to look for it, he could feel the magical field of the rune. With a tiny pulse of energy from his fingers, the rune shimmered forth on her skin, shining brightly. He stood back, casting a magical circle of green light, then tried a few methods of accessing the rune before trying a more complicated one. It worked but, as he’d expected, this wasn’t going to be easy.

As soon as he was able to access it, energy blossomed forth from the rune, spiralling forward before branching out into a network of tightly woven enchantments. Loki’s eyes widened as he stepped back in awe. Thor rose from his seat, slowly moving around the circle. “It’s...beautiful,” Loki said under his breath.

“By the Norns…” Thor said, his jaw dropping. “I haven’t seen anything like that before.”

“This isn’t just a spell,” Loki said, laughing in disbelief. “This - this is art . Frigga, you...you are...magnificent. I haven’t seen this many spells in a binding - ever. I mean, theoretically you could put this many in, but - “ his voice trailed off as he worked to comprehend what he was seeing.

“I’m trying not to freak out over here,” said Sophia. “I’m assuming you’re not talking about my beautiful back end.”

“No,” Thor said, smiling, “but that in no way denigrates your back end.”

“Thank you,” Sophia said with a smile and a sniff.

Loki gently manipulated the energies to visualize the web in a more accessible interface. “There are a wide variety of enchantments here.” He scrolled through some, carefully reading the runic script. “Some are holding you to human developmental markers...ah, here’s some to hold your genetic code...oh.” He stopped on one, making sure he read it correctly. “Well, that confirms you’re Asgardian. This one severs your connection to Asgard’s energies.”

Thor moved closer, reading over Loki’s shoulder. “Unbelievable,” he said. “That would’ve confirmed she was our sister, right there. We should’ve done this before going to Heimdall.”

“What does that mean?” Sophia asked, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

Thor glanced up, then moved over to her line of sight. “Since the days of the first king of Asgard - King Buri - the fate of Asgard has been tied to the monarchy. As his descendents, and as heirs to the throne, we are given great gifts to protect our people.”

Sophia narrowed her eyes. “I don’t understand, sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” both Loki and Thor said in unison.

Thor grinned at Loki. “This is going to be fun, isn’t it, brother.” Loki shook his head and smiled, continuing his work.

“What makes you both say that?”

Thor reached out, then stopped, realizing he shouldn’t cross the magical circle. “First, you don’t need to apologize for something as simple as not understanding. And secondly, you’re - you’re royalty. As Father says, apologies show weakness.”

“Not all apologies, mind you,” Loki said, giving him an annoyed glance, “just the unnecessary ones.”

“Ah,” Sophia said quietly, “that makes better sense.”

“To better explain the energy, erm…” Thor leaned back against the wall, thinking. “Well, I’m the god of thunder. You haven’t seen me use it, but I can call lightning, among other things - many other things. That storm earlier? That was me. I’m not using magic for something like that; I’m not casting spells. An average Asgardian doesn’t have such abilities, either.” He gestured around him. “All of it comes from Asgard.”

Sophia clasped her hands, showing annoyance at her constrained movement. “Your abilities are what makes you both gods, then?”

“Yes,” Loki answered, still focused on his work. “Asgard has given me strong magical abilities and a keen mind.”

Thor nodded. “We draw our power from Asgard, and in turn, we protect it. By severing that connection, this enchantment kept you from developing any ability in that regard.”

Sophia flashed him a confused smile. “That means…”

“What it means will depend on if I can get this off you,” Loki said, slightly annoyed. The number of enchantments here meant he was going to need to be slow and methodical about removing it. It was going to take more time than he’d thought. “Thor, there’s a number of enchantments here that are meant to deter various methods of detection. Primarily magical, but a few inhibitors as well.”

Thor crossed his arms. “That would cancel out tracking devices on her?”

“Yes. It’s a...diverse array of protections, far more in-depth than I would have done in Mother’s position.” Loki tapped a finger against his leg. “There’s almost as much devoted to that as there is to Sophia’s physical form.”

“Oh!” Sophia exclaimed. “That would explain why my stupid GPS never works on my phone.”

Thor laughed. “I have no idea what that means, but probably.” He turned to Loki. “It makes sense that if they were trying to hide Sophia away, they’d want to make sure she wasn’t found,” Thor said, his mouth quirking. Clearly he didn’t like what he was saying.

Loki nodded, finishing up his analysis. With a few gestures, he dispelled the display, its energies shrinking back to Sophia’s neck. The magical circle faded, as it was no longer needed. “There,” he said, “You can move for a bit, Sophia.”

She relaxed with a sigh, moving over to the sitting area and flopping into a chair. “Ugh. Why is it when you’re told you can’t do something, that’s when you want to do it?”

Thor smiled as he moved to sit. “I feel like that all the time. Particularly in ceremonies, I want to start doing anything but stand still.”

Loki walked into the sitting area slowly, taking his time to sit as he contemplated what to say. “Well, I can dispel the enchantment,” he said. “I’ll have to be slow and careful, but I can do it.”

Sophia frowned. “What happens if you make a mistake?”

Thor gave a nervous laugh, and Loki shifted uncomfortably. “If the enchantment is cut too quickly, it can cascade,” he said, knitting his fingers together. “The energy that would be released would be...significant. Akin to an explosion. It wouldn’t hurt us, since we’re Asgardian, but you…” He broke eye contact, his eyes drifting down to his fingers. “Well, it wouldn’t be an acceptable result.”

Her eyes widened. “Wait, could I get killed? Why would that be built into something that’s meant to protect me?”

The two brothers looked at one another before Loki spoke. “The danger is inherent to the spell, so Mother clearly felt it was worth the risk. Anyone less skilled than I who attempted to remove the spell would risk destroying both themselves and you in the process. Most likely someone who’d be motivated to remove it probably wouldn’t be willing to do that.”

Thor rubbed his neck, glancing up at Loki. “It seems worth the risk.”

Loki glanced over at Sophia, who seemed a little shocked at Thor’s assumption. “Well, let’s look at the benefits,” he said, leaning back. “Sophia regains her Asgardian form and any hindrances inherent to the rune are removed. We can probably track her on Midgard as a result.”

Sophia held out her hands. “Wait, would I look different?”

Loki frowned. “Possibly, I’m unsure. You’re quite short for a daughter of Odin.” Thor snorted, smirking.

Sophia narrowed her eyes, giving Thor an aggravated look. “Something that changes so significantly would freak out my parents, probably. If they couldn’t recognize me, they’d see me as a stranger in their own house.”

“Is that a problem?” Thor asked.

“Yes, as a matter of fact. I’d be homeless if they kick me out.”

Loki held out a hand. “It’s alright, Sophia, I can bind an illusion to you with your current appearance that will hold on Midgard.”

Sophia visibly relaxed. “That would take care of that problem. The only concern, then, is...failure.”

“I’d trust Loki if I were in the same situation. With my life,” Thor said with no hesitation.

Loki looked at his brother with renewed respect, touched. Thor didn’t usually speak about him that way. “I don’t like to boast about my skill, Sophia, but I’d put the likelihood of failure quite low. Even if something happens, I know of ways to stop it. I just wanted to make sure we considered the risks.”

Sophia looked back and forth between them, clearly considering the situation. A grin slowly crept across her face. “Let’s do it.”

“Yes!” Thor leapt to his feet. “I’ll get us some food!” With that, he vaulted over a sofa and breezed through the door.

Loki blinked, then laughed. “He wants you to eat before we start,” he said, “because it’s going to take a while.”

Thor came back, his arms laden with foodstuffs. Loki poured them some wine and they worked to devour it all. Loki noted Sophia didn’t eat much, probably because of the nervous edge he was sensing from her. It wasn’t long before they were back in the work space, with Thor arranging pillows on the floor for Sophia.

“It’d be best for you to lay down so that you don’t get stiff,” Loki said as he walked around the space, visualizing the layout he would use.

“Plus it’ll be more comfortable,” Thor said, patting a cushion. “There! All ready for you.”

Sophia lay down, giggling a little bit. She was a little flushed and tipsy from the wine, which, Loki reasoned, was just fine. Let her have a little fun after the stresses of today.

Loki motioned for Thor to move; he got up and got a goblet before taking a seat. Loki tensed his fingers as he began to cast a circle for disenchantment, lighting up the room with green energy. As quickly as he could, he accessed the rune and got to work.

Thor and Sophia chatted about a variety of subjects, but Loki didn’t listen at first, instead making sure he was focused on his work. However, it was nice to hear their conversation in the background. It made for a lovely change from his typically solitary evenings.

“You said you had a brother in your family. What’s he like?” Thor asked, leaning back and taking a sip of his wine.

Sophia sighed. “He’s handsome, polite, smart, hard-working, considerate. In a few ways, a lot like you. Any woman would be lucky to have him; his wife was the one who won the prize.”

“So, he’s married. I thought he was your younger brother, though.”

“Yes, well, he got married at 18, quite young. They love one another, though, so I can’t say it’s a bad thing.”

Thor coughed. “18? 18 years. Eighteen.”

Sophia laughed, putting her hand on her stomach. “I know it doesn’t seem like long to you, but that’s when we consider people coming of age.”

“Norns, it’s hard to understand mortals.”

“Hey, it’s the same in the other direction. You’re just as strange, I just don’t talk about it.”

“Does he live with you still?”

“No, no, he’s off living on his own. He’s got a career, good money, a wife, foster kids...pretty much everything my parents wanted for a child.”

“I thought you worked to be the perfect one,” Thor said.

“Yes, well. My parents were inclined to think he could do no wrong, so I had to work all the harder to please them.” Sophia’s voice turned a little bitter. “I can’t blame him, it’s not his fault, it just, uh - it’s hard.”

Loki glanced up from his work. He’d have to follow up on that, that was surprisingly close to how he felt.

Thor seemed to be a little confused, but didn’t say anything to that effect. “It seems like you don’t particularly care for your family.”

Sophia’s eyes widened. “Um…” She blinked. “I have mixed feelings, like I mentioned before. They’re the family I had, the one I grew up with. I’m bitter and angry, but - I still love them. I’m just...ready to leave, I suppose. They have their own lives now.”

Thor looked worried. “I hope you won’t feel that way about us.”

Sophia looked sideways at him, mixed emotions crossing her face. “I can’t make promises,” she said. “I give people the benefit of the doubt, against my better judgment. It’s a part of who I am. I don’t judge if I can help it.”

Loki paused his work. “Thor, in my experience, she is quite kind and loving, despite her feelings toward her family. She’s had her whole life with them to form her opinions, we’re relatively new to her in comparison.”

Thor set down his goblet, clasping his hands in front of him. “Just make sure not to apply those feelings to us.”

“I’ll try,” Sophia said with a small smile.

Loki’s work was laborious. Thor quickly ran out of ways to pass the time with Sophia, and as they eventually lapsed into silence, Thor, refusing to leave, fell asleep in his chair.

Sophia lay there quietly, lost in her own thoughts. The sky-shroud had disappeared to let in the light of the stars, and nothing but the crackle of the braziers and Loki’s footsteps made a sound. “Sophia,” Loki finally said, “Are you awake?”

“Yes,” she said. “I’m too nervous to fall asleep.”

“Don’t worry, I’m nearly done. I just wanted to check since you’re so quiet.”

“Yep, just thinking.”

“About what?”

“Well, this is a lot. All of this. Like a wish or a story coming true. I mean, if I didn’t know better, I’d admit myself to the hospital for having delusions. Because this doesn’t happen to a lot of people, you know?”

“I suppose.” Loki hesitated. “I always considered myself lucky to be born into my position. Some of us are just born into the right circumstances.”

“But this...this is a lot of circumstances.”

Loki smiled. “Yes, certainly. But we’re unravelling what all of this means. It’s not a wish coming true, if such a thing were to exist, but, rather, it’s the righting of a wrong. Something that shouldn’t have happened.”

“I suppose it’s just my perspective. Thor said I was young when I mentioned it; I think he thought I was being naive.”

“Well, naivety is, in itself, a matter of perspective. In comparison to us you’re young, but that doesn’t change how you view this, and that’s what matters to you.”

“How do you view all of this, then?” Sophia asked, turning her head to follow him.

“I have a lot of feelings, but in the end, I think the truth is the most important. Strange for a god of tricks, I know, but that’s what I think.”

“It’s not so strange,” Sophia said quietly. “At the core of every trick there’s a truth, a pointed truth. I think people often hate tricksters and comedians because they’re the truth-tellers of society - hated as much as they are loved - because they point out the hypocrisies as well as exposing the truths that we want to hide. Sometimes you go too far, and then...well, some societies don’t take kindly to the idea of truth.”

Loki stopped, then forced himself to continue. “That’s a very astute perspective,” he said softly. “I think deep down we know that, but we’re just not confronted with the idea. It’s easier to laugh or deride rather than think about the point behind the joke.”

“Do you feel like that’s the case with your tricks?”

“Yes, certainly. For example, when we were younger, Thor had a favorite shirt of his that he wore all the time. It was too tight - it cut into his arms - but he liked to wear it because he thought it made him look stronger. So I snuck into his room and ruined the shirt. Not really a trick, but still, I had a reason. Naturally, he thought it was because I was jealous, but that wasn’t the point. The point was his vanity.”

“Did it work?” Sophia asked.

“No,” Thor said, “It didn’t. I’m not the fastest learner, though.”

Sophia laughed loudly as Loki blushed. “That’ll teach me to assume you’re out,” Loki said. “How much did you hear?”

“Oh,” Thor said teasingly, “Enough.”

“Oh, fine then. Be that way,” Loki said, grinning. “Nearly done, Sophia. I’ll let you know when to expect...change.”

He felt the flickers of her anxiety. Thor must have as well, since he leaned forward out of his reclined position, putting his elbows on his knees. “You’ll be fine, Sophia,” he said comfortingly.

“You don’t know,” Sophia said tightly, “You haven’t seen anything like this before, right?”

“Well, no,” Thor said, “But Loki knows what he’s doing. So I know you’ll be fine.”

She hesitated. “Just keep telling me that,” she said. “I have a feeling I’m going to forget it in a few seconds.”

“You’ll be fine. You’ll be fine. You’ll be fine, you’ll be fine.” Thor started repeating, with a grin.

“Oh my god, that’s not what I meant,” Sophia said, laughing, and chucked a pillow at him.

There, it was done. Prepped for removal. “All set, Sophia,” Loki said. “Expect it in a few moments.”

Sophia screwed her eyes closed and Loki twisted his fingers, activating the spell and extracting the rune. He congratulated himself on his success, watching as the silver magic traced over Sophia’s form, looping around her body until it was obscured by light. It subtly changed to golden light, warmth emanating like the sun, then died down.

Thor was the first to reach her, with Loki just behind. “She’s alright,” Thor said, eyes moving quickly to assess her. “Sophia?”

Her eyes were closed. She put her hand on her forehead and was simply breathing. “Different lungs,” she said. “Oh, this is weird. Oh god, I sound different, too. Different vocal cords.” She took a deep breath.

“Don’t panic,” Loki said, putting a hand on Thor’s back and leaning over to better see. “Just take your time and get used to it.”

She was certainly taller, significantly taller. Her hair was now a light blonde, a striking contrast to the brown she had sported. The structure of her face was different as well. She might not be happy about that, Loki thought.

“Are you in pain?” he asked, hoping that she wasn’t holding her head for that reason.

Thor glanced up at him with a mixture of surprise and confusion, then looked back to Sophia, who took her hand off her head. “No, no pain,” she said, finally opening her eyes. She pulled off her glasses, blinking. “Not going to miss those.”

Well, those eyes he knew. She had Thor’s eyes.

“Um, Sophia,” Loki said, recognizing an issue, “I’m going to shift your clothes to fit you.”

She nodded, and he reached down quickly, rearranging the matter of her clothes to better suit her. One of his favorite spells, perfect for the occasion.

Thor held out his hand to help her up, which she took and got up slowly, eyes widening as she reached full height and looked Thor straight in the eye. “Jesus fucking Christ!” she exclaimed, putting her hand over her mouth. “Fuck, am I that tall?”

Thor laughed, bringing her into a hug. “Of course you are! Loki was right, you were a little short.” Sophia looked at Loki over Thor’s shoulder, eyes still round as she was taking in everything. Loki gave her a grin, gleefully happy at his work.

She pulled back, putting her hands on Thor’s shoulders, looking down and assessing herself. Loki brought himself around Thor to better see her reactions. She looked over at him, dazed. “Well, that worked,” she said, “I have no idea of what to make of all this.” She laughed, shaking her head, then let go of Thor. “I think the hardest part is getting used to the altitude. How do I even walk like this?”

“One step at a time,” Loki said, stepping back and holding out his arms. Sophia carefully walked over, nearly tripping over a cushion. Thor snorted with laughter, and Sophia giggled as she met Loki and pulled him into a hug. “Your first steps as an Asgardian,” Loki said softly, and she squeezed him more tightly. Surprisingly tightly. Loki looked at Thor over Sophia’s shoulder, eyes widening as she kept squeezing. “She’s uh - she’s strong,” he said, trying to extricate himself before things got too uncomfortable.

She let go, shaking her head. “Wow, this is so unbelievable. But should we put up the illusion so that my parents don’t see...this?”

“You don’t even know your face!” Thor said. “Loki, could you…”

Loki blinked. “Of course, but it could be a lot. Sophia, would you like me to show you an illusion of yourself?”

She ran her fingers over her face, looking a little lost. “I suppose,” she said.

Loki looked her in the eye. Norns, it was strange to see her similarities to Thor. “I’d really like you to be sure.”

She stood up straighter, stroking the newly fitted clothes nervously. “I’m sure.”

A slight hand gesture was all that was needed to summon a simple, faintly shimmering version of Sophia. One hand over her stomach, she reached up to touch her own hair, then walked over, standing an arm’s length away. Her face slowly became more stern as she examined herself. Finally, she spoke. “I mean, it’s not like I have a say in how I really look. I don’t see myself there, but I guess - I guess it’s me.”

“You’ll get used to it,” Thor said cheerfully.

Loki felt a flicker of irritation that his brother wasn’t paying more attention. He knew it wasn’t just that easy. “Sophia, I’m a shapeshifter,” he said, hoping to lessen her discomfort, “and I’ve occupied a lot of forms over the years, some for long periods of time. I know from experience how strange it can feel to be in a body you’re not used to. You’ll find yourself in that reflection eventually, it just takes time.”

“Isn’t that what I said?” Thor asked teasingly.

Sophia turned, her arms wrapped around herself. “Just a different way, Thor. Thank you both. It’s still strange to consider you’re my brothers, but this is just another confirmation.” She gave a sad smile. “And I realized I didn’t say this before, but, I’m honored to be a part of your family.”

Loki looked at his brother, who was also smiling. “We’re honored to have you,” Thor said, “Now come over here and give me another hug.” Sophia grinned, then tripped and hit the floor, a pillow going flying. Laughter filled the room, Thor doubling over and gasping for breath before helping Sophia up.

After a brief hug, she shook her head. “That hurt way less than it should’ve.”

“Good old Asgardian genes,” Thor said, patting her on the back. “Don’t hurt yourself doing stupid stuff to see how much pain you can take.”

Loki snorted. “That sounds like something you’d do, Thor, not her.” Sophia smiled at him over Thor’s shoulder. “Sophia, shall I put that illusion on you?” Loki asked.

“Yes, please,” she said. “Do you need me to lie down again?”

“No, just hold out your hand,” Loki said. She did so, and he spun a quick binding rune over her wrist. No need to be fancy, it wasn’t going to be tested magically. Her form shimmered and changed as the illusion was applied, and with a quick flick of his fingers, the rune settled and faded into her skin. “There.”

She turned her wrist over, examining the illusion. “It’s strange, it’s like the outside doesn’t match the inside.”

“That’s entirely the point,” Loki said with a smile. “There’s different kinds of shapeshifting. This covers over a form, but doesn’t entirely have substance. A skin has substance, but still goes outside your form. When I shapeshift, it physically changes my form temporarily, but isn’t intended to last forever. A binding enchantment such as the one you had, however, that can be a permanent change, but in your case it was able to come off.”

“Ugh, she didn’t need a magic lesson,” Thor said, stretching.

Sophia shrugged. “It’s interesting. Magic is such a foreign concept, I like knowing more.”

Loki jumped with realization. “We should check your magical abilities! You might be able to do magic - oh, that would be fun.”

“God, it’s far too late at night for that,” she said. “Maybe tomorrow.”

Something seemed off. Looking up, Loki saw Thor standing perfectly still. “Thor?” His heart stopped when he saw Thor’s eyes.

They were the color of Heimdall’s eyes, a startling shade of orange.

Loki came closer, snapping his fingers in front of Thor’s face. He didn’t react. Loki put a hand on him and shook him briefly, but once more, he didn’t react.

Sophia and Loki exchanged glances. “Could he be seeing the future?” Sophia asked, her worry evident.

“I don’t know. When the Seer Osk answered our questions, her eyes were white. But that’s not the same as our visions,” Loki answered, walking around his brother.

Thor took a deep breath, blinking rapidly and shaking his head. Loki stepped back. “Was that a vision?”

“Yes,” Thor said, “I haven’t had one around other people before.” He rubbed his eyes, then looked around at the others. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Your eyes were like Heimdall’s,” Loki said. “Different than Osk’s. You weren’t responding to your surroundings.”

“Interesting,” Thor said, crossing his arms. “But my vision - Loki, are you going to Vanaheim?”

Loki raised his eyebrows. “Yes, I was going to tell you after Sophia left. Did you see something about it?”

Thor nodded. “I saw you and Forsetti riding in Vanaheim. You were ambushed - you were able to get away, Loki, but Lord Forsetti was killed.”

“Ambushed? Were they Vidfavne warriors?” Loki asked, concerned. This was real and immediate - was this a warning?

“I believe so, but I don’t know their clan colors. I can’t be certain,” Thor said. “Nevertheless, perhaps you should refrain from going.”

Sophia glanced at Loki, who was thinking. “Do we know the future’s certain?” she asked. “If you were to take a different precaution, maybe you could still go.”

“We don’t know if it’s a certainty,” Loki said, “but my suspicion is that it can be changed. That vision Thor had of a calamity - we couldn’t have been prophesied to exist if that type of future couldn’t be undone.”

“This isn’t theory,” Thor said sternly. “This is a man’s life.”

Loki nodded. “I understand that, but we don’t know the outcome of any change. If I were to go down alone, I might not be able to make it out alive. If we went a week from now, Forsetti still might be killed. Your coronation is soon - I’d like a few answers before then, and right now I have the time. Once you’re crowned, there will be a lot of business to deal with.”

Thor stroked his beard, staring at Loki. “What if you had an escort? The warriors and I could go with you. That way we can keep you both safe.” He paused. “If there’s ambush activity, that means the Einharjar aren’t doing their jobs properly, and I’d need to deal with that anyways.”

“I’m not keen on having a group of six - we were going to be asking some sensitive questions, and the more we have, the more...official we’ll seem. I need Forsetti, he understands the Vidfavne situation better than any of us.”

“We’ll split up in the villages,” Thor said authoritatively. “There’s no need to stick together. We’ll watch you on the roads and leave you to do your business in town. I’m sure Sif would love to sample the local ales, she hasn’t been to that region yet.”

Loki sighed. He really had been hoping to make his way around quietly, but there was no sense putting Forsetti’s life at risk. Plus the time with his brother before the upcoming coronation would be a nice change. “Very well.”

Thor glanced over at Sophia. “You’re exhausted,” he said, “Sophia, do you need to sleep?”

She nodded, yawned, and came over for another hug before she disappeared.

The brothers briefly discussed the minutiae of details for their morning departure before Thor started preparing to leave. “Hard to believe all this, isn’t it,” he said.

Loki looked his brother up and down. “Well, not really on my end. But you’ve...you’ve seemed to take to her quite quickly, especially after being so careful.”

Thor shrugged. “I don’t know, after talking with her today, she seems...trustworthy.”

“Trustworthy. Is that all. I don’t see you joking like that with people you find trustworthy.”

Thor shrugged as he moved his goblet to an empty platter, ready to be cleaned by a servant. “I feel comfortable with her, for some reason. Like I don’t need to put on a show for her. The same way I feel when I’m with you.”

Loki looked down with a small smile. “Thanks for the faith in me, by the way. I appreciated it.”

“It’s just how I feel, it’s nothing special, Loki.” His brother seemed distracted as he put cushions back on the couches in a rare display of assistance. “She seems to like you, you know. I might be comfortable with her, but you two - you’ve got something different.”

Loki considered this. “I’m unsure why. Sometimes I think we just understand one another more easily.”

“Exactly! That’s it. She was responding better when you spoke with her about her body. I don’t really get why she didn’t...understand what I was saying.”

It was probably the empathy, Loki thought, but he wasn’t going to bring that up with Thor. It’d been a good night overall, no sense wasting that. “Yes, brother. We’ll have to see how things go.” He clapped Thor on the back. “Now go get some sleep.”

Thor smiled and headed for the door, stopping before he made it. “Well done tonight, Loki. Your spellwork was just as masterful as mother’s.”

Loki gave a small smile, pleased at his brother’s praise. “Thank you, Thor.”

[michaelbartram]

Illusion

Chapter 2

 Originally Claudio had persuaded Felicia to live with him (at some inconvenience given their differences) to discourage her from sleeping with anybody else.

He did not love Felicia. He was fixated on her. Obsessed. Above all, he dreaded losing his young girlfriend.

But the cocaine nights were getting to be a problem. The chaos was making their life together untenable. ‘Out with friends’: what a mountain of youthful idiocy the phrase conjured.

It was 8 o’clock in the morning. Felicia had just come in, still off her head. Yet to come down, when she would lie with her face to wall, so bleak and guilty.

Before she’d arrived back, despite anxiety about her night-long absence, he had been shaved and showered, his maroon silk dressing gown on, coffee ready. He’d been about to start the day. She stumbled in, half-falling off her heels, traces of white powder up her nostril, flinging her jacket over the kitchen stool.

Then the high-speed monologue. ‘Don’t look at me like that. I’ve been enjoying myself! We had such a laugh. The cab driver was an idiot. He tried to overcharge me, said it was a night fare because I’d been out for the night. Idiot. Bel was there. She’s come out. Her parents have banned her. Well, you know what they’re like. They’re such good Catholics they’d lick the Pope’s bare arse. She’s in love – not with me, don’t worry! With this woman – she was there for a bit till she punched this girl who was coming on to Bel and the bouncers came for her. Bel asked how you were – you know, how we were. She’s of the firm opinion, Claudio, especially now she’s a militant lesbian, that all men are idiots. But I said, what can you do – I meant what can I do – if I don’t fancy women. Do you know what she said, she said that she only started fancying women when she was seventeen. A woman hit on her and she liked it – a whole lot! And when they did it, you know, she was much better than any man. Think about that. I might try it. Only joking! Anyway, after this first demon girl lover, Bel said she found men’s picos ridiculous, that’s before you even get to what men are actually like, I mean their characters. I said, they’re not all bad but I have to admit Claudio is a bit of a shit!’

‘Ah, well that’s nice,’ said Claudio. ‘How very edifying it all sounds.’

Felicia twisted her face into a mask of clichéd scorn – a ‘new’ expression – Claudio could swear it didn’t exist in his youth, a generational tick for cynical times.

‘Darling,’ he said, ‘your opinions when you’re this far gone aren’t worth a dime. That’s all I’ve got to say.’

‘Don’t come over all moral with me, Claudio. You like a drink with your fancy friends when it suits you.’

‘Felicia…’

‘Anyway,’ she went on, biting into an apple she had snatched from the fruit bowl, ‘at least I’m faithful to you.’ She sat down and flung her feet up on another chair.

He turned away on the pretext of pouring his coffee. This he hadn’t expected.

He prepared his own mask and turned. She fixed him fiercely. ‘You, on the other hand, Claudio. Do you know what you are – a love cheat, a typical porteño. You don’t see yourself as a generic Buenos Aires skirt-chaser. You’re too “civilised”. Precious vegetarian in a country of meat-eaters. Poet. Novelist – except that you haven’t had a novel published for years. Living off the income from your grandparents….’

‘Leave my grandparents out of it. They were hardworking Jewish immigrants who…’

‘I will leave them out of it!’ she shouted, thoroughly fired up. ‘I’m talking about you.’

‘What about me?’

‘You’re a cheating, middle-aged ponce, with your out-of-date grooming… your shiny shoes, your manicure. Your hair with grey flecks all done up in a sweep to make it look thicker.’

‘I’m not listening to this.’

‘You better listen, cheater!’  

‘You’re contemptible,’ he muttered.

‘Deny it, hijo de puta! You know all the tricks. You did it with me. Some low-lit bar, you all world-weary. Putting your head to one side. The flickering eyelashes. The candlelight gleaming in your slimy, cheating eyes. You toy with the stem of your glass. You swirl the wine with trembling hand. You utter some deep and meaningful bollocks. Next thing it’s back to her place. And then she’s in for a real disappointment. But Claudio has another one to write in his little book. I bet you’ve got a book by the way. I’ll find it… I bet…’ She slowed, looked down to the floor and suddenly seemed to fade before his very eyes.

‘I need some coffee,’ she said.

He poured her a cup. She put her feet down, sat up and sipped slowly and thoughtfully. Staring down she whispered into the cup, ‘Little cup, why does he cheat on me? Aren’t I good enough for him?’

He moved over to her and put his hand on her shoulder. ‘Felicia… these nights out… the drugs… you get things all wrong… it’s got to stop.’

And that Claudio did believe – even if mainly for selfish reasons.

Felicia said, ‘Claudio, I’ve been thinking about Arcadia…’

‘Oh, not that…’

‘Yes, that.’

Later, as she came further down and grew sad and anxious, a better atmosphere arose between them. They went through to the bedroom. His love-making was intense. Her response was tender. Afterwards they lay quietly together.

‘I’ll get clean there,’ she murmured, burying her head in his naked chest. ‘Then I’ll make a new start back here in Buenos Aires. I’d already thought of that when Lazar was here but I wasn’t ready. I was in denial. Now I’m ready... Oh God, I shouldn’t have gone out last night… Never again.’                                                                                                                                                                             He murmured approval, suppressing his scepticism.

Nevertheless… Might there be something to be said for Arcadia? Did the abstinence rule offer hope? Maybe if the two of them could be away from everything in a place where she couldn’t get cocaine, she could find out she was better off without it and be a little more amenable.

They continued to lie side by side. Claudio stared up and saw… Arcadia.

He projected on to the ceiling the image of a graceful mansion set in a natural paradise. In the centre of it all, a ‘clean’ Felicia, devoted, available day and night. His heart beat faster. Perhaps, with plenty of time at their disposal, they would feel relaxed enough get into some seriously interesting sex games. He closed his eyes.

‘By the way, Felicia, did you already know Lazar?’

‘No. He’s your friend. What makes you ask?’

True answer: suspicion of Lazar; suspicion of Felicia; jealousy of any man in Felicia’s vicinity.

‘Nothing… just a thought.’

‘Do you think I’ve met him somewhere and fucked him?’

‘Felicia. No.’ It was precisely what he was wondering. ’You know, my love, I’m coming round. I have to say Arcadia beckons to me now. It could be good for both of us. Truth to tell, I’m a bit jaded myself.’

‘You’ve changed your tune. That’s good.’

He needed her again. He moved his hand ‘expertly’ between her thighs. There was a pause. He smiled his winning smile. As he lifted himself on to her she looked up past his shoulder at the pale ceiling which had held his dream.  

Afterwards he said, ‘You call Lazar, will you? I don’t always feel like talking to him.’

The call was made and Lazar visited the next evening.

As soon as he had settled himself at the table with maté Lazar picked up where he had left off.

‘There’s no clear definition of what to take with you to Arcadia. You use your taste and imagination. You wouldn’t be invited if you didn’t have taste and imagination!’

‘Isn’t it a bit… boring?’ asked Felicia.

‘It depends how you define boring. Competitive games are not allowed. I know some people would hate that. Their main idea of a holiday is to find someone to thrash at tennis or golf and while away the evening at billiards or poker. No, no golf course, no tennis or badminton courts, no croquet, no bochas.’

‘So what is it,’ asked Claudio, ‘meditation and yoga, all that stuff?’

‘Absolutely not. Climbing, riding, boating, collecting flower and rock specimens. Theatricals. Flirting – with the utmost decorum. Do you enjoy flirting, Felicia?’

‘What Argentine doesn’t flirt?’ she replied. ‘Men are worse.’

‘Anyway,’ continued Lazar, ‘The idea is to re-create the way the English aristocracy entertained themselves in their grand houses a century ago.’

Lazar and Claudio had studied English literature at the boarding school they had attended together which, though Jewish, had been modelled on British lines. Dickens, Robert Louis Stevenson and Agatha Christie had always been a shared reference.

‘Then why no croquet or billiards?’ asked Claudio. ‘Surely they’re essential along with drink – tea-time Madeira, port when the ladies have retired after dinner.’

‘A good question. I will swiftly answer it. Significant as is the Victorian, Anglo-Saxon “dream” at Arcadia, there is another idea which is even more important. From this there can’t be any loss of focus due to people messing about or getting drunk.’

‘Good heavens,’ murmured Claudio, ‘what is it?’

‘I mentioned it to you before, Claudio. No machines.’ Lazar leant forward and spoke with sudden intensity. ‘No cars, No gadgets. No transistor radios, calculators, electric razors and hair curlers.’

‘What about watches?’

‘The exception. A modern thing allowed at Arcadia because, like Yorick’s skull in Hamlet, a watch is silent and helps philosophical thinking. Apart for that no post, no telephone, or cameras of any kind,’

‘What about the Victorian masters of photography: Fox Talbot, Julia Margaret Cameron? They did all their work in country houses.’

‘Wait, Claudio, I’ll explain.’

Felicia was fidgeting. ‘Come on you two, this is getting boring. We don’t need the finer points.’

‘Felicia is right,’ declared Lazar. ‘There is only one central point. The machine. Arcadia is fixed in the past, but, let me tell you, a past that was heading for a different future from what actually happened. A past that said no to machines except the simplest. Any machine that is incapable of being understood or repaired, come to that, by an ordinary person is an enemy. Alienation. Marx, Marcuse and all that. Remember? None of this “harnessing science” rubbish. Computers: shit. Machines that we can’t understand are shit. They make idiots of us. People are slaves to them.’

Felicia got up and, leaning her forehead against the window, stared down at the traffic-choked street. ‘Rush hour… Look at them all.’

Lazar, sitting across from Claudio, was drumming his fingers on the table. ‘By the way,’ he said, ‘if you take binoculars to look for that condor, they will have to be antique. An ancient brass telescope might be more in keeping.’

Felicia turned from the window. ‘Let’s decide once and for all, Claudio. After a day like today I’m feeling that computers are shit too. Let’s get away from this pollution, from all this noise and mess. The city stinks. We can’t get rid of the cockroaches here in the kitchen. I need a break. It sounds all right.’

‘Well…’ Claudio rubbed his chin.

‘While you’re thinking about it,’ said Felicia, ‘why don’t you offer Lazar a tinto.’

Claudio silently cursed that this would mean he would have to endure Lazar’s company for longer, but he was not averse to a drink. ‘I’ll open a bottle,’ he said.

He got up and headed for the wine rack. He busied himself. The cork popped.

‘Tinto, Lazar?’

They drank. Before long they were on to a second bottle.  Claudio rustled up some food, partly to get away from the intensity of discussion with Lazar. While he cooked, Felicia and their guest went into the other room and seemed to be swapping Buenos Aires gossip.

Outside, darkness fell. The moon pushed its way up over the muddy Plata into a sky rancid with police sirens. The windows were wide open but Claudio felt no trace of a cooling breeze. Staring out, spatula in hand, he thought again about Arcadia. A contrast… luxury, quiet… Heaven maybe…

‘Lazar,’ he called out, ‘Are you hungry? I will be honoured if you will sample my vegetarian stroganoff.’

When they came through Claudio asked Lazar casually, ‘By the way, will you be at Arcadia this summer?’

‘No, I’m staying here in town.’

This decided Claudio. ‘Oh, that’s a pity,’ he murmured.

He put the food out. Felicia poured more wine.

‘Buen provecho!’ said Claudio. ‘Thank you for your idea, Lazar. We have overcome our doubts. We cannot resist your blandishments. We are ready.’

The three raised their glasses to Arcadia.